High Rollers
by caulfields
Summary: No one expected pretty little Elsea Holmes to be the mastermind behind the elaborate Hogwarts drug ring. Especially not Remus Lupin.
1. Season Of The Witch

**Disclaimer:** We barely own anything here. All of it goes to the wonderful, brilliant JKR. We tried to keep things close to the actual time-line, but unfortunately we are both Americans, and have a limited knowledge of the UK in the late 1970s. In addition, there is quite a bit of recreational drug use in this story... that being said we only have a grasp on muggle marijuana and have decided that magical marijuana has a bit more of a ~kick~ to it.

We've already posted this on ao3, and are about 5 chapters ahead in posting. But we thought we'd post it here too. Please let us know what you think!

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**CHAPTER ONE:**

SEASON OF THE WITCH

Elsea Holmes loves her brother dearly.

"So you mean," Stan says, scratching his head and adjusting his headband. "We just walk through this wall?"

He's just a bit thick is all.

"Yes, for god's sake," Elsea reminds him for what must be the tenth time in the hour. "We walk through the fucking wall."

And perpetually surrounded by a cloud of smoke.

"Woah, woah, woah, little lady, no need for that language around here," Stan warns, bopping Elsea's nose. She swats his hand away, looking helplessly at Paisley Hughes, her brother's longtime girlfriend. She might be just as much of a grass loving, free spirited, hippie as Stan is, but at least she's got some sense.

"Stan, quit it." Paisley warns, she always sounds like she's singing when she talks. The way her long, uncombed hair jostles as she speaks, adds to the melody. "You're disrupting the peace in the air."

Some being the operative word, Paisley only has _some_sense. She is dating Elsea's brother, after all. Not that Stan isn't attractive, before the long hair, the beard, and the blisters on his feet, Stan used to be the best looking bloke in his sixth form.

Stan puts his arm around his girlfriend, raising his brows apologetically and kissing her forehead. Elsea isn't exactly sure what Paisley's on about, considering the fact that the hustle and bustle of King's Cross station is anything but peaceful, but she isn't going to complain about anything that shuts her mouthy brother up. That's what she calls keeping the peace.

"I'm gonna..." Elsea starts, lifting her floral suitcase from the concrete. If she's learned anything from living with Stan and Paisley, it's that their little cuddle session will turn into a full-fledged snog fest if she doesn't act as quickly as possible. "I'm going to get going now. You can come if you can fathom walking through a wall, Stanley."

Stan frowns. His face squishes so that he looks like a rather perturbed woodchuck. "Hey, listen up. We aren't all mystical wizkids with super witch powers, so I apologize if I find the fact that I can walk through a bloody brick wall a _bit_ far-fetched, man."

Elsea pats her brother sympathetically on the shoulder. "Poor baby. Maybe you'll finally get your Hogwarts letter next year?"

She remembers Stan coming home late on holiday weekends, drunk from some party, rambling on about how Hogwarts must have terribly messed up, seeing as he never got his letter. At first Elsea felt a bit bad for him, but after he vomited all over her carpet, she didn't have much sympathy.

"I have all the magic I need in my life right here." He looks fondly at Paisley and catches her lips with his in a way that's completely nauseating.

"Ugh," Elsea clutches her stomach, "I've had just about enough of that for a lifetime."

Her summer holidays consisted of tidying the house, weighing her products, and making sure her idiot brother and his stoned girlfriend didn't set their house on fire. Her parents, who moved to America after Elsea urged out of the country for their safety, sent letters every few weeks updating on their travels. It took everything she had to force a smile at her brother's antics when she saw that her mother and father were having such a great time.

Stan and Paisley continue to snog, and Elsea sees it's her turn to leave. "See you on the other side," she says.

She turns on her heels and starts towards the barrier, but a hand clutches onto her wrist and pulls her back. Elsea falters slightly, now caught in the sweaty, stinky arms of her hippie older brother. She tries to fight him off, slamming her elbow into his stomach. The last thing she wants to do is to start her final year at hogwarts smelling like cannabis and hot dogs. But Stan has a surprisingly good grip, and Elsea might have a bit of a soft spot for him, no matter how awful he reeks. She lets him get his hug.

"Be safe this year, Ron," he mumbles, just quietly enough so Elsea can barely hear him. She nods absentmindedly and starts to pull away, but not before Stan's hand finds hers and presses a small plastic baggie into her palm. "And a little herbal refreshment, to get you through that awful train ride."

"You bastard." Elsea says, but she still accepts, shoving her new possession into her coat pocket. "I'll send you an owl when I get to school, okay?"

Stan nods while Paisley looks on happily.

"_Remember_ to write."

Stan nods again.

"I'm serious. It's important and I can't have you flaking out on me at a time like this."

God knows what kind of trouble Stan would get himself in without her. He could get killed. Or worse, sober. Well, she'd be a bit pleased if he was sober at least once in a while.

"God, would you _leave_," Stan groans good-naturedly, "I'll write you. I promise. I'll send you pens because I know you hate using the ridiculous feather thingies too."

Elsea smiles at him. "They're called quills. And thank you. Send the good ones too, no pencils."

"Deal," Stan says, pushing her towards the brick wall. "Now piss off, Els."

"Laters!" Elsea shouts, backing into the brick wall. "Remember to lock your door! And don't do drugs!"

All Elsea can hear as she's pushing through the platform is hysterical laughter. She slides to a stop, brushing her hair away from her eyes and looking around. It doesn't take her long to spot her friends: a rather shady looking group of posh, rich kids with blood-shot eyes and dopey expressions.

-.-

As soon as his parents usher him out of the car, Remus Lupin feels a familiar wave of freedom wash over him. In the crowded King's Cross station, there are nothing but rushing families around him; he sees muggles and wizards and witches alike, not minding one another, desperate to get to their trains on time. He's one of them, a mere fish in the pond. No different.

Well, as far as they knew.

He pushes his trolley past several platforms and remembers he left his favorite quill on his desk in his room. Oh well, he'll just have to do without it. He thinks about bothering his mum with a letter a few days into term, but doesn't want to worry her when she sees the tawny old owl on their windowsill. After all, quick letters from home from their only son usually meant one thing: trouble.

Remus quickly pushes his trolley through the barrier of Platform 9 and 3/4, eager to enter the peace and serenity of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The castle walls have always provided a defensive barricade from the outside world. Amidst the terror and bloodshed brewing in Britain, Remus can't help but feel rather cowardly that he craves protection.

He pushes past a crowd of Hufflepuff girls reuniting for the first time in months and doesn't bother to chat with any of the students who greet him with a smile. He's friendly, but inside he's itching to see his friends.

All summer he's had nothing but their letters and the lyrics _Wish You_Were_Here_to keep him company. Not when Dumbledore urged them to stay in their houses over the summer, to be safe and not to wander. He had a particularly nasty full moon over July, and was sick for nearly three weeks. James and Sirius were abroad with the Potters, and Peter's mother made him stay home, terrified for his safety.

"Hi Remus!"

His eyes cast sideways as a leggy, beautiful redhead girl struts over, a shiny Head Girl badge pinned to her blouse. Remus' face spreads into a grin as he opens his arms and hugs the girl.

"Great to see you, Lily!"

Lily Evans pulls away and holds him at arm's length. Her big green eyes sparkle excitedly as she takes in his form. Remus has a few new scratches on his arms (a rather nasty one on his back that he thanks Merlin is hidden underneath his jumper), but he's otherwise healthy. The last time Lily saw him, he looked pale and thin. He's filled out a bit.

"You look great," she says, tucking an orange strand of hair behind her ear. "How was your summer?"

Remus forces a smile. "It was fine. Boring. Yours?"

"Oh you know," Lily waves a hand, "my sister got married."

Remus nods. "Yeah, James mentioned-"

Speaking of the devil himself, a messy dark haired boy with glasses and a cocky expression saddles up behind Lily, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Hiya Moony."

"Prongs." Remus nods. They stare at each other for a moment before James breaks into a grin and drops him arms from around Lily. He rushes at Remus and they embrace each other for a moment before Lily breaks into a fit of giggles.

"What's this?" James pulls back from their hug, squeezes Remus' biceps. "Is that _muscle_?"

Before Remus can confirm or deny, James' gaze shifts over Remus' shoulder and brightens. "Oi! Padfoot! Leave McKinnon alone and get your bum over here!"

He only has a peaceful second before he's attacked by another hug.

Sirius Black pulls away and grins. "Moony? Have you been lifting weights?"

Remus smirks, and then punches him in the shoulder. Sirius clutches his arm and feigns hurt. "Wow, is that anyway to greet your best mate?"

"Of course not, he greeted me with a reciprocated hug," James slings his arm around Sirius' shoulders. The sight of his two best friends with their arms around each other is all Remus needs. He grins, drops his bag on the ground and wraps Sirius into a headlock.

"Ah! Moony!" Sirius shouts, arms flailing. "Seriously, when the hell did you get so strong?"

"I don't know? Maybe you're just becoming more of a twat, eh?"

"Unlikely," Sirius pants out, attempting to fight off Remus. "_Very_ unlikely."

James is howling with laughter as Lily gives them a little wave and disappears off towards the train. It takes them only a few moments to gather themselves, and they're soon joined by the fourth member of their crew: Peter Pettigrew.

Together, they go off to find their seats and end up kicking some first years out of their usual compartment. Sirius bares his teeth at them as James pretends to file his nails. Remus hovers in the background, expressionless, as two eleven year old boys run off, obviously terrified. It barely fazes him anymore.

They settle into the compartment, and soon enough James is flashing his shiny new Head Boy badge.

"I still have no idea how you got that," Sirius says, kicking his feet up in the empty space between Remus and James. "You're the last god damn person they should give it to. And that's after _me_ and Rodulphus Lestrange."

"I dunno why you didn't get it, Moony," Peter observes. He's got a box of Bertie Botts Every Flavoured Beans sitting in his lap.

"I don't know either. Dumbledore must be on fucking acid, man." James grins before muttering, "I want whatever he's having."

"But you're still a prefect, right Moony?" Sirius chimes in, pinching Remus on the cheek. "So you're almost there, dude."

"Piss off." Remus swats Sirius away, reclining into his seat. "I wouldn't want to be Head Boy anyway," Remus admits. "Being in charge of all those first years sounds like a bloody nightmare."

"I don't think it'd be that bad," Peter says. "If you're good with kids, and stuff."

"Well if we know anything it's that Remus is shit with kids," Sirius cackles, and flips his long, dark hair away from his eyes like an old habit.

Remus smirks, holding his arms in front of him in mock surrender. "I love kids." It's a lie. Remus is bloody terrible with kids and their distaste for him is mutual.

"And kids just love you too, Moony," James ruffles the top his head. "I hear the ladies do as well."

Sirius snorts as Peter looks up interestedly.

"Oh do they now?" Remus asks, pulling an old, tattered book from his bag before dropping it onto the floor by his feet. "And which ladies are we speaking of?"

"All of them," James continues, grinning, "or so Lily tells me."

"Are you high?"

"Not yet," Sirius reaches into his bag and pulls out a sloppily rolled joint. Remus isn't even slightly surprised.

"Who'd you get that from?" He asks anyway, running a hand through his hair. It's gotten long in the summer. His mum kept telling him to cut it, which is precisely why he hadn't.

"Maddox, as usual." Sirius shrugs. "He tried to charge me a leg for it, that cock."

"Well, I heard the High Roller has been raising prices." James crosses his arms over his chest. "Heard he's getting greedy."

"The High Roller can tug me off," Sirius grunts.

"That's gay," Peter says quickly.

"That's homophobic," Sirius retorts, poking Peter in the stomach before placing the unlit joint between his lips.

"And sexist," Remus adds, "the High Roller could be a woman."

Peter sinks into his seat.

"Lads," Sirius declares, tossing an arm around Peter's shoulders and grinning. One could say Sirius Black was a bit of an arsehole, but he was always there for his mates. "I think it's time we smoke up to a new year."

"Final year," James amends, looking out the window. His solemnness doesn't last long, however, and he turns quickly to the group and says, "Lily will finally sleep with me this year. I can feel it."

"You're not feeling anything, yet." Sirius mutters, raising his wand and lighting the joint. He takes a long drag and blows the smoke out in front of him. He sighs dreamily and leans his head back against the seat. "Shit, man."

"Good stuff?" James asks.

"The High Roller only provides the best shit," Sirius puts on a mock accent that sounds unmistakably close to Ricky Maddox. He holds the joint out to them.

"Nah," James shakes his head, "can't today. I've got to lead a prefects meeting soon. Lily would know."

Sirius then holds the joint out to Remus, staring at him hopefully.

Remus shakes his head. "Nah."

Sirius rolls his eyes. "You lot are no fun." Peter grabs at the joint excitedly. "Good on you Wormtail," Sirius grins, slapping him on the back, "at least someone wants to make this year memorable."

-.-

"So, Madam High Roller," Archibald Blackwater the Third leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and grinning wolfishly, "have you got what we talked about?"

Elsea stares at his posh jumper; he's got an ascot tied around his neck. Bloody tosser.

"Is that how you greet me Archie? Really?" Elsea says, frowning sarcastically. "After all these months apart?"

"Fine," he opens his arms and kisses her sloppily on the cheek, "hey babe! I missed you so much! Do you have any bud?"

"You're vile." Elsea pulls away quickly, wiping the slobber from her cheek. Archie's invasive embraces almost make her miss her brother. But as much as she loves to act like Archie is the scum of the Earth, he's her scum of the Earth. Elsea doesn't know how she'd survive without him, really. Of course, she'd never say that out loud. "And yes, I do. Only if you have twenty five galleons."

It's an outrageous price. But she likes to ruffle feathers from time to time. Especially Archie's. Sometimes he gets too chummy. She's known him for ages, since the sorting ceremony their first year. Then, Elsea was just a muggle born girl with wide eyes and a million questions, all of which Archibald Blackwater the Third, a pureblood, could easily answer. It didn't take long for her to realize he was a raging prat, but, his friendship came in handy. And that convenience somehow, in a strange twist of events, actually turned into real friendship somewhere along the way.

"Twenty five galleons? Are you mad woman?" Archie says, offended. "With rates like that people are just gonna start snorting ink."

"Shame. That would be really god damn stupid." Elsea falls back onto the seat in their compartment. It's just the two of them for now, she isn't sure where their other compadres are, though, she's not surprised their other closest friend is late.

Archie sniffles and wipes his nose. "You think you'd get high from that?"

Elsea gapes at him, contemplating how she managed to befriend such an idiot. "No, dumbass, you would probably get lead poisoning and die. Are you gonna pay me or not?"

There have been several times that, despite his deep pockets from his wealthy mother (she has her own women's health magazine) and his equally wealthy father (he's got old money), Archie has conveniently "forgotten" to pay. Elsea doesn't allow that anymore.

"Fine," Archie reaches into his pockets, pulling out a bright pink wallet. "Don't laugh, by the way. It changes color with my mood."

Elsea laughs anyway. "That's a complete gimmick and you're fool."

"Is it? Because pink means irritated, according to the key."

"I don't see why you're so peeved," she says. "I'm kidding. Now give me my three galleons, _please_." She sings the last bit and wiggles her fingers out at him. Reluctantly, he nods, fishing the coins from his wallet. Elsea accepts his money graciously. "You know Mummy Dearest would reimburse you anyway."

"Yeah, okay. Like I'd call up Mum and say _I just spent twenty five galleons on loads of cannabis for recreational purposes, mind sparing a bit_?" Archie sighs, shoving his wallet back into his pocket as it took on an ugly shade of green. "You know, three galleons is still kinda pricey. Isn't there a friend rate? I feel like I should get some kind of discount."

"You did get a discount," Elsea points out, "I told you that I'm bumping up my prices a bit."

"You're a sneaky one, Bitch Face," Archie mumbles. There's slight pride in his voice. "Wait, how much is it for like, the regular people?"

Elsea shrugs, looking at her nails. "Four. Four and a half."

"Els," Archie looks at her, a bit too serious for her liking, "you're a genius."

Elsea heaves a sigh of relief. As much as Archie is a bumbling idiot, his opinions do matter. He's a good representative of the wealthy, arsehole section of the student body. Then again, Archibald Blackwater is a good representative of every wanker in Hogwarts. Despite his shocking good looks and sorting into Ravenclaw, he's a bit of a twat.

And Elsea's whole operation would never work without Archie's monetary contributions and his unhindered loyalty. She knew that, when it came down it, he'd have her back. Besides, it helped having someone as loud mouthed as Archie on her side; most people just assumed the High Roller was him, or one of his other friends. No one suspected pretty little, Bitch Face Elsea Holmes of running the only successful drug ring inside Hogwarts.

That's just how she likes it, of course. Not to mention that in the last few years, the market has grown considerably. With a terrible war raging across Britain, people need a little something to get them through the day now more than ever.

Before she can hand Archie his gram, there are three knocks on the compartment door.

"Come in!" Archie calls and then warns, "Don't tell them about my wallet."

Four familiar faces file into their compartment, towering over them with excitement.

"So?" asks Maddox. His real name is Ricky, but hardly anyone calls him that. "What's the lot looking like this year?"

Maddox is also one of Elsea's favorites, but only because he cuts right to the chase. Who needs formalities when they're just going to be selling weed for her? Not to mention, nearly everyone underestimates a scrawny, kind-faced boy like Ricky Maddox. He's always sending the curious students in the wrong direction when they're on her trail.

"Well, first off, I raised the prices a bit. So instead of two galleons, it's four."

Maddox nods calmly and folds his arms over his chest. He's filled out a bit over the summer, but that's not saying much. He sometimes jokes that he's the darkest person in all of Ireland, and having spent the summer holidays in Ireland, he's even more tanned than usual.

Xavier Kensington, looking perplexed, shakes his head. "Are you kidding? Don't you think that's a bit too expensive? For weed?"

Elsea hardly likes Kensington. Maybe it's the fact that he has bleached blonde hair and listens to 1920s jazz ironically. Or maybe it's just because he's a mouthy arse. Either way, she's got no other choice. Archie swore they were the best team a few years ago, and now here they are, indebted to one another. Elsea doesn't mind much, as long as she keeps the upper hand.

"Enchanted weed," Elsea corrects, "and of _course_ not, don't be ridiculous."

Archie nods his head in agreement. "There's a war going on. Do you think people are gonna care? This shit," he pulls the baggie he's just bought off Elsea out of his pocket, "is _priceless._"

"I'd care," Reid Weber, Elsea's least favorite of her cronies mutters. She resists the urge to hex him already. She's not very good at attempting to manipulate him. He's relatively smart and rather large. He's got tree trunks for thighs and massive biceps from all his years on the Ravenclaw Quidditch squad.

"Then you can piss off, Web," Elsea warns carefully. "Give me feedback. If people don't buy for three then tell me, and I'll see what I can do. Odds are people aren't willing to give up their—"

"Wizard weed," Archie interjects.

"Yeah, whatever," Elsea finishes, "not in a time like this, at least."

Maddox nods in agreement. The other three, Web, Xavier, and Hadley, stare idly. "It's the best shit I've ever had," Maddox says.

Web shrugs. Xavier nods.

"How about we get down to business then?" Annabeth Hadley grunts. Her blonde hair is pulled back in a severely tight ponytail.

"Maddox," Elsea gives Hadley a glare. She goes in order of who she likes best; it's the least secretive part of her job. The most secretive being the spreadsheets she's just stuffed into her knapsack. Only Archie's seen them, and he teased her mercilessly about her intense "weed" organization. She's careful not to show anyone. "Gryffindors, again. They're probably going to be the hardest to sway for the new price, being all brave and annoying and what not. Go for Sirius Black, too. I hear he's kind of an idiot. He's got a lot of money to throw around, too."

Web and Hadley laugh. She leaves out the "fit" part. Sirius Black is an idiot, sure, but he's fit as hell, too.

"Hadley, you deal with the Slytherins, since you're the only one I know who can deal with them." Deal, being the fact that Annabeth Hadley is a pureblood who snogs other purebloods on the regular. Despite Elsea's distaste for the girl, she is very useful.

"Els," Archie says suddenly. Elsea almost snaps at him for interrupting her while she's working, but the look of panic on his face stops her. "Anya is coming."

Elsea feels herself physically tighten. She's not a paranoid person regularly; she actually prides herself on being pretty damn chilled out. But when Anya Darzi gets anywhere near her high roller business, she becomes what Stan would call, "_high strung as shit_."

"Okay, okay," Elsea says, panting slightly. "Xavier get the Puffs, Web, obviously you get the Ravenclaws as always."

"But I hate the Puffs," Xavier complains, "they always act like cocks when they're high. Won't bloody leave me alone."

"Your problem, mate," Elsea replies exasperatedly. "We don't have time for arguments."

"I'll switch," Web offers. "I can take the Puffs; they're scared of me."

"Yeah, on account of the fact that you punched their Quidditch captain in the face," Archie sniggers.

"Okay! Great!" Elsea cries, rushing. "Do that. Even though I'm technically the mastermind here but _whatever_."

"It's just a small switch, _Elsea_," Hadley mutters. She hates when they get mouthy on her, especially because none of them have the balls to actually do it with some pride.

"Fine. Whatever. Switch as you please!"

They all nod; Elsea practically throws each of their cuts at them. "Meet me in the common room later so we can discuss profit," she says, sighing as they all place their baggies in their pockets. "Now fuck off."

Hadley opens the door, ready to lead everyone out, when an important thought enters Elsea's head.

"One last thing!" Elsea adds breathlessly. They all pause. "Archie bought the fruitiest wallet I've ever seen in my entire life. We'll make fun of him later, but it changes color with his _mood_."

"Hey!" Archie shouts, but it's too late. Everyone is already laughing.

"Merlin bless you, Archie," Maddox says in his gruff, Irish accent. "Merlin, bless you."

They all leave shortly after. Elsea giggles, pulling Archie's hands away from his face. "Oh come on, you thought that wallet was all the rage like, five minutes ago."

"But you talked me out of it," Archie groans, "and besides, Maddox will never let me live that one down."

"Nor will I," Elsea pats him on the shoulder, "what color is it now?"

"It's fuck off."

"Nice. My favourite color."

"I'm here!"

Anya Darzi is standing in the doorway, arms up theatrically with a giant grin plastered on her face. Elsea immediately runs up to hug her, nearly knocking her over with force. Above all of her employees, and Archie, Anya is her best friend, and favourite person at Hogwarts.

Anya gasps for air and pushes her off giggling. "I guess you missed me?" she says, her voice cheery.

"Of course I missed you," Elsea sighs, pulling her into the seat next to her. "You're the only sane person I know. Isn't that right Archie?"

Archie frowns. "Yes, besides me. Right."

"Hi Archie," Anya says, waving curtly. Anya has her dark brown hair twisted up in a pretty braid. Her cheeks are flushed pink and she's wearing a rather beautiful, flowing blouse.

Archie, who is always a bit slow, gets up awkwardly and gives her a short, one armed hug. "Hey Anya. How was your summer?"

"It was good!" Anya smiles. "I spent it in Iceland for the most part. I deep sea dived for the first time."

Archie's eyes widen and he tugs Anya onto the seat next to him. "I've never done that! Did you get bitten by a shark?"

"Clearly, Arch," Elsea mumbles, but they ignore her.

"No!" Anya giggles. "Yeah, it's a muggle thing, really. I wouldn't expect you to have done it."

Archie opens his mouth to speak, but Anya cuts him off. "Not that wizards don't deep sea dive. Or that they can't. Or, um, anything like that."

Elsea looks at her friend, feeling uncomfortable for her as Archie nods his head with a blank expression his face. While the two of them are friends, they're not always on the same level. In fact, most of their interactions are even more awkward than this. Though, that has a lot to do with the fact that Anya fancies Archie, and Archie is terrified of letting slip about Elsea being the almighty High Roller.

"Yeah," Archie says slowly, "I bet."

She wishes they were both better at dealing with themselves. Or at least, Anya is. She's gorgeous, smart, and one of the most genuinely kind people that Elsea has ever met. There is no reason for her to waste her energy on someone like _Archie_. He's a hopeless narcissist and a complete twat. And he might make a great friend, but he's nowhere near worthy of Anya Darzi.

"Alright, I'm gonna get high," Archie says.

_Thank Merlin_, she thinks.

"It's on me," Elsea declares, pulling out the baggie Stan had blessed her with outside the platform. Nothing breaks the tension like a good smoke out. "You guys in? It's not any of my special stuff, but, it'll do."

"I am," Archie says. "God, yes." Nothing gets Archie like a free smoke either.

Anya shrugs. "I suppose. Haven't smoked since the train in June. I ate everything in our house when I got home. Mum thought I'd gone mad!"

-.-

"Hey, hey, _Moony_." Remus can feel Sirius towering over him, cackling with Peter as he pokes him continuously. "Remus, wakey wakey."

"_What_?" Remus groans, rolling over in his seat. Last night had been a particularly rough one, and after catching up with his mates for a debriefing of the summer, he was more than ready to hit the hay. Though, that seems to have been rather short lived, especially without a sober James to put them in their place. He left soon after Sirius lit up to go snog (and probably bother) his new girlfriend, Lily.

Unfortunately for him though, Sirius and Peter decided they'd rather get stoned off their arses and prod at him rather than support his need for a quick snooze.

"Remus get up," Peter coos, giggling. "We want to see your shining face."

"Sod off."

"Remus, Remi, Remo," Sirius insists, poking him in the head with his wand. "Did you know your name sounds shockingly close to the word anus? Remus anus? Remus the anus?"

Remus opens his eyes just enough to get a glance of Peter nearly wetting himself on the floor.

"Remus in your anus?"

Peter is screaming.

"Remus puts some painus in your anus."

Remus knows he's not getting any sleep now. He also knows he's not going to get anywhere in this conversation. A stoned Sirius Black is the most stubborn piece of shit on the planet. "Hey," Remus says, voice hoarse from sleep. "Sirius Black is the most pretentious name I've ever heard of in my life."

Both Sirius and Peter burst into a fit of giggles. Remus resists the urge to roll his eyes and a tiny, miniscule grin creeps onto his face.

"This is," Sirius manages to say between cackles, "the richest thing I've ever heard from you Moonus Anus," Remus actually rolls his eyes this time, "coming from a bloke whose surname suggests—"

Remus doesn't give him the time to finish his sentence. He stands up, pokes his wand into Sirius' chest, and grabs his prefect badge from his bag.

Sirius and Peter are still giggling. "I get it!" Peter cries. "Because it's like, his furry little problem!"

It takes him a total of two seconds to escape the crazed, stoned madness of his best mates and into the smoke-free, decently smelling hallway of the train. He closes the door behind him, and their laughter is lost behind the door.

Remus almost chokes on the air, it's so clean. He almost forgot that he was on the Hogwarts Express rather than the tightest space in the Shrieking Shack, the favourite smoking spot of his impossible mates.

Walking down the narrow hall, Remus can spot Madame Talissa pushing the cart way ahead of him. He almost can't believe he missed her on the rounds. Since his first year, he'd been almost compulsively trying everything on the cart. Even the Every Flavour Beans.

He's still not sure if being able to have tried the rare "Troll Sweat" flavour is an accomplishment or not. But none the less, he had to at least get a chocolate frog before going to the prefects meeting.

Remus picks up his pace, jogging towards the candy cart before it entered the next train. Past that point and he'd be amongst the Slytherins. Which, honestly, could be the worst thing in world. And there's a war going on out there, after all.

There just really isn't a person that Remus is dreading to see more than Severus Snape. He's nasty, possibly racist, nosey, and just rude in general. On top of that, all of his friends (especially James) had teased him into the ground two years ago by dangling him out on the grounds like a piñata. Then there was the whole fact that Snape knew of his _furry little problem._And no matter how shitty a person Snape is, looking at him after that still made him feel guilty.

"Hey, watch it!" A girl, who Remus must have missed while on his mad dash to the candy cart, bumps directly into his chest, falling against the wall.

"Oh," Remus says apologetically, "I'm sorry, I didn't see you."

He walks towards her, trying to get a glance at her face. As strange as it sounds, the back of her head looks a bit familiar.

"It's whatever," she says, turning to face him. Her eyes are bloodshot, watery and squinted. "Not your fault, I just, didn't measure the trajectory, right. Yeah."

"Yeah?"

He's not exactly sure what she's saying. What is he sure of, is that she's bloody _fit_. He knows her, she's a fellow prefect, Ravenclaw, and they've gone on rounds together in their fifth year. He spent the entire time trying not to think about her legs, which are long and thin, and her tits, which threatened him around every corner of those dark corridors.

"Are you alright?" Remus asks. "You look… distraught."

She stares at him for a while, blankly. Remus is worried she didn't hear him correctly, or maybe that he's offended her in some way. But then he sees the little dropper bottle in her hand, and everything makes sense.

"I'm fine," she says suddenly, "I just have allergies. Spring, right?"

"It's autumn."

Remus can't help but stare at her face. She really is pretty. Her lips are pink and pursed, and despite the fact that she's bloody stoned out of her mind, she has a certain air about her that's really, really attractive.

"Same concept. Both are transitions that honestly kill the immune system."

She's wrong, it has nothing to do with the immune system, but he nods anyway.

"Right."

The train lurches to the left and she stumbles, gripping onto his arms for support. Remus grabs her wrist to help her out, and notices that her nails are painted a deep red. "Crap!" she giggles, "lost my footing!"

He doesn't bother to correct her. She steadies herself and smiles.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" she asks, walking down the hall from the same direction. "You're look so familiar, are you a celebrity?"

"No," Remus laughs, "but I think we've been in a few lectures together, probably."

It's not even a "probably". They've had Potions together since their first year. A couple Herbology lectures as well, too. He knows she's absolutely brilliant at it; he's seen her with the Herbology professor after classes before. Come to think of it, he's had loads of courses with her in the past.

Her eyes widen with recognition. "Right! Potions and charms, right?"

"Uh, no. Potions and Muggle Studies."

"Muggle Studies! I knew that, sorry. I don't know anyone's name. It's not like that."

Remus nods. "Didn't think it was."

He wonders if it's just because she's high, or if she's actually a total dumbass. They let Blackwater in Ravenclaw, so it mustn't have too high of standards.

"What's your name? Sorry? I won't mess it up anymore after this."

"Remus Lupin."

The girl's eyes widen in recognition again. "Oh, fuck. I _know_ you. I'm such an asshole, wow. Sorry, Remus." She brushes her hair behind her ear and Remus notices a pair of sparkling, diamond earrings. So she's got a bit of money, then?

It's a bad habit, but he's always noticing whether people have nice things. He supposes it's because, growing up, his family never had much money. Especially after his, well, furry little problem started, funds started running dry.

"It's really fine," Remus says earnestly. "I don't know your name either, if I'm being honest."

Total lie. He knows her name. Well, her surname at least. Sirius has mentioned finding her fit on more than one occasion.

She frowns, shaking her head as they approach the cart. "Really? I can't believe this. I'm really ston—I mean, I have _allergies_. What's your excuse?"

Remus shrugs. "I don't know anyone's name," he mocks, "it's not _like_ that."

"Hmm," the girl says, raising her brows. She clearly has no idea what's happening. "Nice. I'm Elsea. Elsea Holmes. I'm a Ravenclaw prefect."

"Nice," Remus pulls a few knuts from his pockets, "very cool. Two chocolate frogs, please?"

He can feel her watching him as pays. If he was Sirius, or James, he'd have teased her about it. "Like what you see?" or "Take a picture, love, it'll last longer. And you can stare at it lovingly before bed." But he's not Sirius or James. So he takes his Chocolate Frogs and steps out of the way.

Elsea steps forwards. "Hi, can I have a candy in a can, two treacle tarts, a pumpkin pasty- no wait, two, of those. Yeah, two pumpkin pasties and a chocolate cauldron, chocolate wand, chocolate skeleton, choco-loco, do you have licorice snaps? Wait, forget I asked that. Of course you have licorice snaps. Five of those."

Madame Talissa stares at her, shocked. "Well then, _anything_ else?"

"You got sugar mice?"

Remus watches as the candy lady opens up the bottom of her cart, face contorted in confusion, and retrieves each and every item Elsea requested. He stifles a grin as Elsea eagerly watches the food, running her tongue along her lips and graciously holding all the items in her arms. He can barely believe how stoned she is; hell, he's only seen James this gone one time, and that was after he lost his first Quidditch match in five years.

"You a bit hungry there?" Remus asks, attempting to hide a smirk.

"Positively _starved_," Elsea gushes, turning to look at him, "I mean. It's not all for me."

Remus nods his head slowly. "I didn't think it was."

"You want some? For the prefect meeting?" Elsea asks, but Remus can tell she's only being polite. "I'm not a stalker by the way. I just saw you had the badge."

"It's not like we've ever been on patrol together before," he knocks his shoulder against hers playfully before he can even think it through. Bloody hell, is he flirting with her? Just because she's got a pretty face? She's a prefect, a _stoned_prefect. How the hell did she get the job, anyway?

"Oh!" Elsea tries to snap her fingers, but all the candy in her arms prevents her from doing it. "Oh shit!"

He watches as the entirety of the candy in her arms starts to topple forward and onto the sticky floors of the Hogwarts Express.

"No!" Elsea cries, "my pumpkin pasties!"

It's an instant reflex that he whips out his wand and freezes it mid-air. Elsea gasps, clasping her hands over her mouth. "Fuck! That was _brilliant._ That was, that was…"

"Magic?" Remus offers, bending down next to her and smirking. Their faces are awfully close now, and he can see she's got a tiny scar on the side of her cheek, just below her temple.

"Yes!" Elsea looks genuinely in awe. "Magic. I don't think I've taken out my wand since I got here. Allergies."

"Yeah," Remus says.

"I'm just a little scatterbrained," she continues.

"That," he replies, "and you're stoned."

Elsea starts picking up her individual items and then freezes. "Wait? What? No. Don't be ridiculous, Romulus. I'm a prefect."

"Remus."

"I've got _allergies_."

"That explains the," Remus picks up a few of the pumpkin pasties and hands them to her, "odor."

"Wow, are you telling me I stink?" Elsea accuses. "That is no way to speak to a lady."

"And how might I speak to a lady?"

"Well," Elsea stands up straight and places a licorice wand between her teeth, "first of all, you never say the word 'odor.' It's ugly and offensive. Second, you do not assign the word odor to a lady. Understand?"

"Perfectly."

"Good."

"Anything else?" They've stopped outside the prefect's compartment.

"No," Elsea says, sighing. "I think we're good. But... _oh_! If you ever wanna like," she lowers her voice and leans closer, "get like me, _you know_, you should talk to Ricky Maddox. He's got the hook up to the High Roller."

"Oh really?" Remus asks. "Is that so?"

"Yeah, he, or she, no one knows, right? _They_ have the best bud in Hogwarts. Only but, actually."

"I've heard". The way she's speaking reminds him of Sirius. "But I heard that the prices are way high right now. So it's probably not worth it."

He shrugs it off casually, but for some reason Elsea breaks into a fit of hysterical laughter. He forces a smile, but awkwardly stuffs his hands into his pockets.

Luckily for him, however, it's the ceremonial entrance of one James Potter that breaks the awkward tension. "There you are, Moony!" James cries, throwing his arm around Remus' shoulders. "We've been waiting on you. Have you ever been late to a meeting before? Have you just popped your cherry?"

Remus' face flushes a particular shade of pink as Elsea continues to giggle in spite of herself. He wants to say that his cherry has already been popped, thank you very much, but instead he punches James in the gut and he and Elsea swiftly move into the prefect's compartment.

"I've snogged her," James mumbles in his ear. "Fifth year."

"Have you?" Remus asks, looking from James to Elsea, who nearly drops all her sweets ago as she settles into her seat. "Any good?"

"Brilliant, actually."

* * *

**Author's Note:** That's all for now folks! Let us know your thoughts and stick around for more!


	2. You're My Best Friend

**Disclaimer:** In the first chapter!

Thanks for all the reviews, you guys are lovely!

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO**

YOU'RE MY BEST FRIEND

_Twenty-five wizards found dead in Knockturn Alley. Is it the work of He Who Must Not Be Named? Or a simple gas leak?_

"Well, that's a stupid question," Anya says, peering over Elsea's shoulder. She grabs the Daily Prophet right out of her hands. "As if a 'gas leak' could off twenty-five wizards."

"Yes, I know." Elsea snaps, irritated. She loves Anya to bits, but in the early hours of the morning, nothing gets between her and her Daily Prophet. "The author is being sarcastic. It's a satire."

Anya rolls her eyes, throwing her hands up in defeat. "Oh, well _my bad _then. I must have missed what was so funny about the mass murder of our fellow wizards."

That _is_ true, Elsea can quite definitely agree with her on that point. It's really not all that funny. But, coffee and paper first, socialization second. She aggressively turns to page six, where the 'full story' could be found. There isn't much to read, being that the story is still developing, but it doesn't matter. Elsea's eyes are glued to the giant picture anyway. An empty alleyway, tape blocking off the corner where the alleged incident occurred. However, the worst part of it all, the thing that Elsea absolutely cannot stop staring at are the shoes.

There's a pair of white Keds, new as day, just peeking out from the corner. They're connected to a pair of ashy white ankles, unscuffed, just like the shoes. Elsea can't see much beyond that one shot, but with all the other movement in the picture, it's obvious that whoever was wearing those shoes had to be dead. In the picture. Then and now.

A chill runs up her spine as she stares at it; she knows a lot people who wear white Keds, she used to wear them herself, before she traded her pair in for some converse and beautiful brown Mary Janes. Those shoes could belong anyone in the world. Her Mom owns white Keds, she thinks.

Those white Keds haunt her as she trails her fingers along the page. She thinks about the family. They'd have gotten the news by now, she's sure, that their loved one is dead. She imagines a mother crumbling into a heap on the ground, a father punching fist against the wall, a younger sibling unaware and unsure and on the verge of tears. Elsea does this often, she may not know the deceased, their name or their life or anything, really, but she knows the familiarity of death. It's all too real now, seeping into the corners of the Great Hall, lurking along the shadows in the corridors. Sometimes Elsea can feel it slithering underneath her bed at night.

It suddenly disgusts her, the title of the story. She turns the page to read the Wiz Comics instead.

"You heard about the Havemeyers, right?" Archie, Merlin knows when he appeared, says grimly over a plate of French toast. Elsea stares at him blankly from over the paper while Anya takes a noisy bite of her apple.

"What happened?" Elsea asks, relieved for the distraction from that horrible headline and those horrible shoes.

Archie gets in close, his fingers floating over Anya's plate, and grabs a strip of bacon. "Well," he tells them, whispering, "apparently, the Dad is like, a huge Death Eater _Voldy_ freak."

Anya cringes at his use of 'Voldy.' "Archie, _don't,_" she warns, but then realizes her mistake, and blushes a shade of dark crimson.

"You don't say?" Elsea muses, staring over at the Slytherin table. Sure enough, Ben and Tate Havermeyer aren't there. "How do you know?"

"Because I know everything." Archie chomps down Anya's bacon as she stares at him in shock.

"Is that mine, Archie?"

"Maybe." He's actually _smirking_ at her.

Anya's mouth tightens. "You could've just asked me for it. I'm dieting anyway."

"Are you?"

"_Archie_," Elsea repeats. "How do you know?"

Archie sighs, looks at Anya hopefully and takes another slice of bacon. "Hadley told me. Remember you put her on the Slytherins? Well she usually talks to Ben Havermeyer, but he wasn't there at all. Then Thomas Boothe said that both of the brothers didn't come back to join the troops."

"But isn't Tate only a second year?" Anya asks, pushing her entire plate away. She'd woken up that morning with several pledges: to eat healthy and be a positive force in the halls of Hogwarts. Also, to save the whales, but that would have to wait until they were near a body of water that could sustain more than enchanted flounders and mere rumors of merpeople.

Archie nods. "Yeah, but like that matters to, you know, _them_."

"That's terrible."

"I know. Ben was great at Quidditch, but less competition for me now, right?"

"Where the hell are you even going with this?" Elsea interrupts sharply. Anya and Archie both stare at her, confused. "I mean, just because they're Slytherins and they didn't come back to Hogwarts this year does not mean they're suddenly Death Eaters now. That's a massive condemnation. Are you an idiot? Or just bloody stupid?"

"Neither," Archie bites, insulted. "It's not like this is anything new. The Havermeyers have been complete mugglephobes since _ever_. Remember? Tate even called that Hufflepuff a mudblo-"

Archie stops himself and stares at Elsea nervously.

"It's okay, chill out." Elsea shrugs, letting the word slide off her back like it's nothing. Though, it definitely is more than nothing. "And I know. But still, I just need a bit more evidence to believe something like that."

Archie frowns. "What more do you need? You want little Tate Havermeyer to come in here and show you his cool new ink?"

Anya stifles a giggle. Elsea almost, _almost_ kicks her under the table.

"I believe you, Archie," Anya coos. "I always got a bad vibe from Ben in potions. Him and Snape always seemed up to no good."

Archie grins fondly at Anya. "See, Elsea?" he jeers, pulling another slice of bacon off Anya's nearly empty plate. "You should be more like Anya."

Elsea decides to tune them out. If there is anything that could further wreck this morning, it's Anya feeding Archie's astronomically sized ego. And then Archie, because his ego is so horrifically sized, making Anya look and sound like a tiny idiot. There are better things to engage herself with, she decides.

And she's proven correct by the entrance of Remus Lupin.

He saunters in; sandy brown hair tussled in a minimum of six different directions. His shirt is buttoned incorrectly, and there are deep, purplish dark circles under his eyes. The boy looks like he quite literally hasn't slept in a week, and Elsea can't stop _staring_. She hasn't been able to stop since the incident on the train one week ago.

She can't put her finger on what it exactly is so attractive about Remus Lupin. It's certainly not how put together he is, or his smile (he really doesn't do that too often), but it's just _something_.

Elsea thinks, maybe, she can't be sure, that it's the way he carries himself. He's side by side with Hogwarts' most eligible bachelor and Mr. Perfect on the regular. And that Pettigrew bloke. But still. He's a specimen, Elsea decides, and he's well worth her attention for the morning.

She idly bites into a corner of toast and watches as he takes long strides across the Great Hall to the head of the Gryffindor table, where Black, Potter, and Pettigrew are already sat. Potter's hair is even more terrifying than Remus; and he's saying something excitedly to a very eager Pettigrew. Black looks exhausted, but cool, with his shaggy black hair pushed away from his face and his tie loosened around his neck. For a Monday morning, no one looks too alert in the Great Hall. Save for Anya and Archie, who continue to chatter next to her.

They should really just get it over with and snog already.

Black pats Remus on the shoulder and he settles onto the bench next to him. He runs a hand through his already tousled hair as Potter starts piling on a variety of dishes onto his plate. Elsea watches, interested, at the way his three friends dote on him momentarily, knowing exactly what he wants to eat, while he seems to explain something to them. They move in tandem with one another, she thinks. Well, if she knew someone like Remus Lupin that personally, she'd want to move in tandem with him too.

"God damn Holmes," Archie's voice cuts her away from her swooning, "at least buy the man dinner before you shamelessly eye fuck him."

Elsea attempts to stop the blush from creeping up her neck with a haughty glare. "Don't be ridiculous, _Archibald_."

Archie just smirks. "You're practically salivating all over that toast. Black? Really?"

It's then that Elsea realizes Archie thinks she's staring at _Sirius Black_. She nearly scoffs at the thought. Sure, he's good looking, criminally so, but he's such a...well, for a lack of a better word, a _twat_.

His sense of humor is tragic and always at the expense of someone else, and not to mention he'd snog anything that moved. He's a loose cannon, mouthing off at professors and Slytherins and against the war. Elsea would never subject herself to someone so erratic. Her entire being operated under strict order and organization. Sirius Black would fit none of that.

Remus Lupin, on the other hand…

"Sirius Black isn't worth my time," Elsea snaps, a little too loudly, that a few surrounding Ravenclaws turn their head to look. She lowers her voice. "Leave it, Archie." she says his name with such ferocity that he merely snaps his mouth shut and nods decisively.

"Well," Archie clears his throat, placing his hands on the table, "that's my queue. I ought to head out if I want to make it to Care of Magical Creatures on time."

"I dunno why you still take that class," Anya muses, watching him as he stands up from the bench and adjusts his robes, "it's so _dirty_."

"Maddox and I were going to hotbox in the broom closet," Archie explains, wiggling his eyebrows at her. "Kettleburn gives us an extra ten minutes to get down to the forest. An extra ten minutes seriously unneeded."

The corners of Elsea's lips twitch slightly. She mentally thanks him for keeping her in business all these years. Archie is her best customer, behind those Hufflepuff sixth years who are literally stoned during all hours of the day.

"Find you later, yeah?" Archie asks. His eyes shift to Elsea and he says. "Got some coursework I need you to look over."

Elsea nods quickly. A little too quickly. Anya shoots a strange look between them, but she forgets it the moment Sirius Black stands up on his bench and screams some indistinguishable rubbish. Pettigrew roars with laughter while Potter shouts something back at him. Remus smirks down at his plate.

"Yeah," she agrees. "Find me later. Library?"

Archie nods and is gone. Elsea wonders what he needs to speak to her about, though she reckons it's serious if he has to let her know beforehand. She's certainly not going to let him forget, now, like he's prone to do.

Once they're alone, Anya's hands slip around Elsea's forearm and yank her back to reality once again.

"Okay," Anya says, a smile twisting on her thin lips, "_spill._"

"Spill what?" Elsea asks, leaning closer. She doesn't rip her arm out of Anya's grip, she's afraid that might look a little too...suspicious. Plus, Anya is a _total _gossip. That means she's got information, Remus Lupin information. And Elsea is more than willing to play nice if it means she going to find out something _good_.

"You were staring at Sirius Black." Anya giggles quietly, and the two of them turn to look at the boys again. Remus has nearly finished his plate and is looking a little bit better. Elsea would feel like a total creep if she wasn't genuinely interested in him.

"Can you keep a secret?" Elsea whispers girlishly.

"Well_,_ duh," Anya says, then stops. "Well, actually no. But I can when it comes to you. I promise. I've never told anyone about that time you got diarrhea in Divination third year."

Elsea glares at her. "Don't bring that up."

"Okay! You won't hear about it again!" Anya promises, sweet as ever. "Seriously, I won't tell. Friends honor."

They've been best friends for a long time, and Elsea knows, with Anya at least, this means something. She believes in all that honor and duty sort of mumbo jumbo that no one really goes through with in the real world. It's endearing, and a quality Elsea feels fiercely protective of.

So Elsea smiles and asks, "What do you know about Remus Lupin?"

-.-

Remus wonders if his friends will _ever_ stop talking about bloody _wizarding weed._

He's not a straight-laced square, that's absolutely impossible when he's prone to transforming into a rabid animal once a month and feeling the need to rip out jugulars. Remus can always use a little distraction, though _little_ is the operative word. But, since coming back to school this fall, and while it's been just a week, all Sirius and Peter seem to do is get high. Or talk about getting high. Or talk about the High Roller.

It's exhausting.

Even James is getting tired of it, Remus thinks. From his new relationship with Lily to his Head Boy duties to the Quidditch squad, James is busier than ever. He doesn't have time to smoke behind the stands with Sirius after practice anymore. It seems Sirius has moved onto Peter, who Remus knows, would do anything to be included.

"My latest theory," Sirius is saying, as he drums his fingers on the table excitedly, "is that the High Roller doesn't even go to school here."

"No!" Peter gasps. He's a great audience. He reacts at all the right times. Remus just rests his head in his hand and watches James, who is staring at Lily as she interacts with some of her friends. He's grateful they have to leave soon for class, because otherwise, he doesn't know if he can stand another second of Sirius. He loves the bloke, to death and whatnot, but he's taking this to a whole different level.

"Yeah," Sirius leans forward, looking around, "I reckon the High Roller lives in Hogsmeade somewhere. Has a few delivery boys come and pick it up. Maddox is one of them."

"Well, there is one way we could find out," Peter says, rubbing his hands together like an insect. "But it's a bit risky."

Remus watches as Sirius' eyes widen with surprise.

"You? Risky?" Sirius challenges. "Tell me more."

Remus scoffs, watching as Peter quite literally cracks his knuckles in preparation.

"Okay, what if we, like, used the Imperius Curse."

James drops his fork at the word 'Imperius.'

"_Wormtail_," he sputters, "what the fuck?"

"It's just a suggestion!"

"Have you dropped acid?" James snaps. It's about time someone did, Remus decides. He watches in amusement. "Wow, Peter. That's the stupidest thing I've heard in my life and I had potions with _Snivellus_ last year."

Sirius laughs, patting James on the shoulder. "Hey, relax man. It was just a joke, right Peter? I don't even think unforgivables work in Hogwarts."

"They do," Peter says, but quickly retreats. "But yeah man, chill. I was _joking_."

"Putting Ricky Maddox under the imperius curse," James trails off, sitting back in his seat. "He's a nice guy, for fuck's sake, just ask him and I'm sure he'd _tell_ you..."

As they continue to discuss whether or not Ricky Maddox actually knows the identity of the High Roller, Remus' eyes scan the Great Hall. He smiles briefly at a pretty Hufflepuff girl who catches his eye before finding the prefect from the Hogwarts Express whispering with her friend.

Elsea Holmes is certainly not stoned anymore, with her dirty blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail and her robes in pristine condition.

She looks up briefly and catches him staring. Her eyes widen for a moment before she shoots him a flashy grin. Remus quickly turns his head and looks away. He knows he probably looks like a total arse, but he doesn't want to Elsea Holmes catch him staring and get the wrong idea.

He's heard things about her. Quite a lot of things. She hangs out with all those notoriously stoned Ravenclaws all the time. She's pretty, sure, and probably pretty smart since she's in Ravenclaw. But smart and pretty girls who aren't afraid to do bad things are the worst kinds of girls.

"Should we leave for potions then?" he asks, interrupting whatever conversation the rest of his friends are having. They all nod, and somehow Sirius and Peter manage to continue their conversation behind them as they lope out of the Great Hall and down towards the dungeons.

James knocks his shoulder against Remus'. "Lily let me to second base last night."

Remus raises his eyebrows appreciatively. "Did she really? Way to go, Prongs."

"It was like, just for a few seconds. Then Mary McKinnon walked in." James shrugs, looking dreamy. "But I felt it. Over the bra. She's well endowed, Moony. _It's happening_."

It's not like James Potter hasn't felt up any girls in his time at Hogwarts. In fact, Remus is pretty sure James has had his hands on quite a few pairs of rather nice tits in his day. It's just that the boy is absolutely head over heels in love with Lily Evans. Remus can't blame him; Lily is beautiful, smart, and brave as hell. If anyone can tame the wild James Potter, it's her.

"Well, best of luck to you." Remus smacks him on the back as they stroll into the Potions classroom. Slughorn is already standing in the front of class and they all file in to their respective seats. The four of them are no longer allowed to share a station, seeing as Sirius and James set things have "pyromaniac tendencies."

So James and Remus join their partners, a couple of Hufflepuff blokes who are perpetually stoned, while Sirius and Peter find their station.

Remus starts to wonder if everyone in the damned castle is high all the time and he doesn't even know it.

"Lupin, Potter, far out," a Hufflepuff that Remus can't remember the name of, practically yawns at them. "We're gonna have a sick time."

Remus nods, James grins goofily.

"Oh yeah, Jason," he says, nodding his head, "I just hope you're good at this class."

"Why, man?"

"Because Remus and I have very selective memories, you see. I don't even know how to make a forgetfulness potion."

"Potter, bro," Jason croons, "you learn how make that as a first year."

James scratches the back of his head and puts an arm around Remus. "In one ear out the other, you know?"

"Yeah man," Jason laughs, "_totally_."

Just as Remus is about to apologize because they very well do know how to make a forgetfulness potion and James is just being a git, Slughorn quite literally roars for attention.

"What the fuck?" Sirius, from behind Remus, rightfully whispers.

Slughorn looks at the class, his usual proud expression plastered on his face as he crosses the room.

"That, was the work of a little potion I like to call 'Liquid Animagi," Slughorn announces, clapping his hands together, "I'd say you'd learn to make it this year, but frankly, that's far too advanced for the Hogwarts curriculum."

Remus and James exchange a knowing look. They are all too familiar with 'liquid animagi.'

Just as Slughorn is about to burst into one of his famous, self-indulgent, speeches, two girls scurry into the room.

"Sorry we're late Professor!" the shorter one cries, nearly stumbling over the back of Sirius' chair. Remus can see him staring at her with heart eyes, and immediately pities her.

The other girl, however, is much more collected. "Hi," Elsea Holmes mouths to Remus. He feels dread in his stomach and he quickly looks back down at his textbook.

The girl sure knows how to arrive fashionably late. She's calm and collected as her ponytail bobs and she and her friend settle into their station. Remus glances at her friend, she's very pretty, but a bit childish, with her hair in a complicated french braid and bright, non-uniform chunky clogs on her feet.

He should probably start looking away before she starts trying to say 'hi' again.

"Nice!" James claps his hand on his back. "She was a damn good snog. I mean, _damn good_."

"James," Remus lowers his voices and leans in, "she won't stop bloody staring at me."

"Really? That's great."

"No, no it's not."

James furrows his brows, "I don't see the problem there, mate."

"Three words," Remus mutters, "_furry little problem_."

"Never stopped you before." James says, smirking. "And she's _still_ looking, what the hell did you do to her, Moony?"

"I didn't do anything." Remus shrugs noncommittally as James' smirk grows wider. Remus can tell that James is about to go to town on him when, in an unlikely turn of events, Professor Slughorn saves the day with an abrupt clearing of his throat and a pointed stare.

As Remus settles onto his seat and flips open his book to the page of the potion they've been instructed to brew, he can hear the muffled giggles of Sirius and Peter behind him.

James turns over his shoulder and whispers, "What's on the docket for today, boys?"

Sirius leans forward, a wolfish grin on his face. "Lestrange."

"But it's always Lestrange," Remus argues, abandoning his work and joining James. "We should go for someone new."

Just last week Sirius hexed Lestrange into sporting a rather obnoxious pair of bright green elephant ears for nearly three class periods. Not even Remus could ignore the hilarity, and in fact, _might_ have given Padfoot the spell. But he fears retaliation from the Slytherins, and with present circumstances, he didn't think their revenge would be in quite as good humor.

"C'mon, look at him." Sirius nods in his direction. "Have you ever seen someone look that annoying while sleeping in class?"

Remus glances across the room to find the hard-faced Rodolphus Lestrange, eyes shut and head resting against the heel of his thin, wiry hand. It doesn't make much sense at all, how the little crease between his brows is so utterly irritating. Remus notices that he's sitting right across from Elsea's friend, and she couldn't look less pleased.

What a prick.

"You're right," Remus says, shaking his head furiously. "Forget I said that. What's the game plan?"

James leans his head in for discussion. Despite maybe his affection for Lily Evans and Quidditch strategy, there's nothing that gets James going like a prank. He's the self-titled pranking King of Hogwarts, something he claimed drunkenly at a party during their fifth year right before Sirius dumped a bucket of frog guts all over his head. The prank war between the two of them is almost as wild as the one they've all got going with the Slytherins.

"I'd think Lestrange would look posi-tute-ly dreamy with a load of shrinking potion all over that monstrous snout of his." James suggests.

Lestrange does have a rather large nose.

"That's a good one," Remus agrees. "it's almost like we're helping, too."

James and Peter both break into a fit of laughter.

"No, no. I have one already. Ready for this?" Sirius prompts, cutting them off. He looks around at all of his friends with excitement. "Over the summer, I found this old potion book. It's the oldest damn thing I've ever seen, it's probably from around Merlin's day, for an approximation. Anyway, I found this great little number that burns off fibers. We can really fuck Lestrange up with that one."

"Burns off... fibers?" James repeats. "Sorry, what?"

"What do you mean 'what?'" Sirius asks. _"It burns off fibers_."

"Yeah, but, well. You're gonna have to be a bit more clear."

"Essentially, it removes hair, fabric, anything with fibers," Sirius explains. "Like if we made some of the potion and dropped it on Dumbledore's beard, it would burn off."

"When you say burn off, do you mean like, horrifically? With fire? Because last time we started a fire in potions James almost got expelled." Peter pipes up.

James chuckles to himself. "Good times."

"No, that's not what I mean. Not at all." Sirius rolls his eyes, looking helplessly at Remus. "What's the word I'm looking for here, Moony?"

Remus shrugs as the boys look at him, waiting.

"How could I possibly know?" Remus asks. They continue to stare at him, pathetically clueless. "Do you mean dissolves?"

"Yes!" Sirius almost shouts, "Yes, dissolves. It dissolves fibers. Good."

"Okay," James lowers his voice, nodding, "so what? Are we gonna make him bald?"

"Too far." Remus says quickly while James sighs with exasperation.

Sirius continues, speaking rather loudly. "No. Good idea, but another time, Prongs. Today we are going to make—"

"Boys!" Slughorn cries from the front of the room. He's usually not keyed in to their side conversations. Lily keeps him occupied with her constant participation. "Did you hear _anything_ I was saying at all?"

They all stare at him, dead silent, until Sirius pipes up, "You were just enlightening us on your expert credentials, Sir."

Remus suppresses a groan.

-.-

"I'm ruddy awful at potions," Anya mumbles, her finger sliding down their textbook as Elsea busies herself with the chopping. After the minor scene caused by Sirius Black and his friends, Slughorn had them all move to work on their respective potions. Anya and Elsea had been assigned to create the Liquid Animagi of a walrus, with their partners, Rodolphus Lestrange and Markus Point.

"Then let me do it," Point snaps, reaching forward and grabbing the book from Anya's hands. Elsea just glares at him, but continues her chopping.

"Fine," Anya sighs, "less work for me."

Point glares at her, reading the book and proceeding with the potion. Lestrange lets out a loud snore.

"Nice, great," Anya says, resting her hands in her head.

Elsea rolls her eyes, lowering her voice. "You know, Anya, you could just tell him to fuck off. You're ten times the wizard he is."

Anya smiles and blushes a soft shade of pink. "Yeah, but that's not—"

"I heard that," Point mumbles, glaring.

"You were meant to," Elsea says, sneering at him.

"That's really rich, coming from _you_," Point spits, glaring daggers at Elsea. "Haven't a magical bone in your family tree and you're trying to say I'm less of a wizard?"

Though it used to cut deep, when the Slytherins would poke and prod at her background and blood status, now it's just a typical Monday morning. Elsea and Anya ignore him.

"I don't even care, honest to Merlin," Anya says. "It's not like being good at potions will make Archie finally notice me."

Elsea looks around the room, confused. "Sorry, what? Is Archie in this class?"

"No, no. But I mean, like, generally."

It takes everything in Elsea not to heave a loud sigh and roll her eyes dramatically.

"Right," Elsea resumes her chopping, tongue in cheek, "getting good grades is important too, though."

"I know that," Anya snaps. "But it's my last year at Hogwarts and I just want things to be different, you know? How long have I liked Archie for? My entire life?"

"That would be impossible, because you didn't know him before Hogwarts, but okay, sure. Your _entire_ life."

"Well it feels like my entire life, _Elsea_. Don't you know what it's like to be in love with someone?"

Elsea nods her head. "Sure I do."

Anya seems taken aback. "Wait, you do?"

"My heart isn't made of stone, you know." Elsea tosses the contents of her cutting board into the cauldron so Point can continue to stir. Lestrange starts drooling on the table. "I'm capable of love and other _human _emotion."

"Who could you have possibly loved?" Anya says. She doesn't mean to sound condescending, Elsea knows, but it irritates her anyway.

"Well. I love my brother and his girlfriend," Elsea tells her, shrugging casually. "And my parents."

"They don't count."

"Why don't they count?"

"Because, they're not _romantic _loves." Point snorts at this, but Anya continues. "They're not going to hold your hand and kiss you beside the fire. They're not going to take you out and you know, afterwards, do the thing."

"Yeah well," Elsea lowers her voice to a whisper. She doesn't need any more outbursts from Point. "Archie is an animal. He wouldn't do that to you either."

She pauses; Anya stares at her in shock.

"Well actually, he would most definitely '_do the thing_' whenever you want. Isn't love wonderful?"

Anya huffs, her face red with anger, she almost looks like she's been slapped. "Archie would be a great boyfriend; you just can't see it because you're too far up his cute arse."

Elsea leans forward and lets out a loud, ugly retching noise. Like she would go anywhere near Archie's _nasty_ behind. Just as she's about to really ham it up, Anya's eyes widen over Elsea's shoulder.

"Excuse me," Remus Lupin says, placing his hand on Elsea's shoulder as he slips past her towards the store cupboards. Elsea blushes, did he just hear her fake vomiting? She wants to bury her head in her hands and run into the Forbidden Forest, never to be seen again. There is literally nothing she can come up with at the moment more unattractive than a girl doubled over making retching noises.

"You're fine," Elsea manages to choke out as she begins to process the thought that Remus Lupin has his hand on her shoulder. But just as she can feel a tightening in her stomach, it's gone, and Remus has gone off to dig through the bottom shelf.

She's only just started to admire his bum when Rodolphus Lestrange lets out a blood curdling shriek.

Remus Lupin is running away before Elsea can even gage it. "What is—"

"—MY TROUSERS!" Rodolphus shrieks causing the entire class to freeze in terror. "You _removed_ my trousers!"

"I didn't touch your trousers," Remus insists, hands in the air. "See? No trousers."

Anya stares at Elsea and giggles. "So I guess you're not his type then, huh?"

Elsea hits Anya playfully on the arm. Things are about to get good.

Rodolphus runs across the room, clad in pants with little snakes on them. His wand is drawn, pointed outwards towards Remus and his little group of four. Elsea bites her lip in anticipation.

"You took them! My fucking trousers!"

"Lestrange, pal," Black says, wandering calmly to Remus' side. "Just because you forgot to come to class with trousers on doesn't mean that we had anything to _do_ with it. Try to apply at least a bit of logic to your life now and again. I know, it's hard for you."

"Shut the fuck up, Black. No wonder everyone _hates_ you." Lestrange is nearly hysterical; Elsea has to cover her face so no one sees her laughing.

"I like Black," James says. "So does Wormtail."

Lestrange lets out an exasperated cry. "You annoying fucks. This is not the last you'll be hearing from me I swear on fucking Merlin—"

"—Language!" Slughorn cries, seeming to have just woken up from a long nap. "What is the meaning of this language?"

"Lupin disappeared my trousers!" Lestrange accuses, lowering his wand.

"Disappeared your trousers?" Slughorn asks, scratching the back of his head. "Are you sure?"

"Yes!" Lestrange shouts, but quickly lowers his voice when he realizes he probably needs to butter up Slughorn as much as possible. "I mean, yes. I'm sure. He came over and spilled a bottle of purple liquid all over my pants and now _they're_ _gone_."

Slughorn sighs, but just as he opens his mouth, however, Point lets out a grunt. Suddenly, all of the Slytherins in the classroom are shouting and clutching their faces. Elsea's jaw drops as she notices the entirety of the Slytherin seventh years in their class growing bright yellow spots on their faces.

It takes everything she has not to fall over with laughter.

-.-

The rest of the day isn't half as eventful as potions class in the morning.

Elsea is exhausted by the time her schedule finishes. She throws herself into her favorite armchair in the back of the library, the along a row of windows that faces the grounds.

There aren't many people around, on account of the nice weather outside. But Elsea has more important things to deal with than enjoying the weather. She flips open a Herbology book Professor Sprout lent her that afternoon and waits on Archie.

It takes him literally forty-five minutes to arrive. By the time he does, she's fit to be tied. Elsea hates waiting on people, specifically Archibald Blackwater the Third. And she's _always_ waiting on Archie.

"Sorry I'm late babe," he says, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek and falling into the seat next to her. "Got a bit tied up with a couple fifth year Gryffindors. They've heard," he leans forward, bring his voice down to a hushed whisper, "the High Roller has stronger stuff. Wanted to try some of it."

Elsea scrunches her eyebrows together. "First of all, _never_ call me babe again. Second, Where the hell did they hear that?"

Archie shrugs. "Beats me, _babe_, but that's what I wanted to talk to you about."

Her face twists in concern and she tucks her legs underneath her. She's gonna have to let the 'babe' slide for now.

Archie scoots his armchair a bit closer and gives it to her straight, "People are getting bored of the old stuff."

Elsea mouths the word 'bored' to herself three times before she is able to muster a response.

"Bored?" She sputters, "Of my product?"

"Well, yeah."

Elsea shakes her head in disbelief. "What do you mean?"

"I've been talking to Maddox. He says nobody wants to buy the plain old stuff anymore. He says people find it too familiar, or something."

Elsea's stomach drops.

"_Familiar_?" she snaps. "What do they want? Magical exploding marijuana that they can snort?"

Archie shakes his head. "No. But, hey, can you do that?"

Elsea gives him a stern look. "How many times do I have to tell you that you can't snort marijuana you bloody _idiot_."

"Right, okay, sorry. So, what I was saying is, apparently Hadley and Web are having trouble selling too. People are just looking for something new now. Something stronger."

"That really shouldn't be my problem." Elsea is adamant. She's a small businesswoman, not a leader of a cartel. "I don't sell hard drugs, Arch."

"Not hard drugs, just like," he shrugs, "something a little more... relaxing. It's a fucking ugly world out there, Els. People are tired of waking of every morning wondering whose name is gonna be in the Prophet, dead or missing. They're sick of sitting through the day with all that shit floating around their heads, draining them. They need something to take their minds off of it. They need something stronger. Desperately."

"Then they can go to Hogsmeade and get some Wiz coke from that weirdo who sits in the back of The Three Broomsticks." Elsea says, "I give them my best, I work hard for these people. If they think that they need something more, that's their issue."

Archie nods, but Elsea can tell that he disagrees.

"You think it might be prices?" she asks, biting her lip. "Should I bring them down again?"

It's a rare moment that one of her dealers sees her in a slight state of worry. But, then again, Archie isn't just one of her dealers. Despite his, well, Archie-ness, he's a friend. Possibly her closest. She trusts him.

"No," Archie shrugs, "they're all too pathetic to not pay. Besides, I'm not telling you to go and bake them heroin brownies, alright? I'm just saying they need something with a bit more of a punch. Like, that sort of stuff you take when you're sick in St. Mungo's, that medicine? Something recreational, non addictive, and able to knock you out."

Elsea blinks once and stares at him face. Medicine you take at St. Mungo's? Medicine like…

"Oh!" she cries, and suddenly she's digging through her bag liked a madwoman. "Oh!"

"What?" Archie's face twists in confusion.

She's silent for a moment before she retrieves a small orange bottle from her knapsack. Archie stares at it in confusion.

"What the bloody hell is that?" he asks.

"_Quaaludes_," she explains, smiling to herself, rolling the bottle around in front of her eyes. "It's Stan's. For his back pain." Stan's back pain is actually just a slight bruise he formed when falling out of a tree he climbed when he was on a bad trip. "I stuffed them in here for him at the pharmacy because he ripped a hole in all his pockets."

"I don't know what that is."

"Oh Archie, you're adorable when you're confused," Elsea says, she feels her confidence coming back. "It's a pain killer. Maybe you know them as ludes?"

Archie frowns. "Ludes?"

"Yes."

"Uh, nope?"

"Listen, how about I just show you what it does. We'll take a pill each, usually you take two to three to get anywhere, but since it'll be our first time, I think we should ease into it."

"Ah," Archie says, nodding, "Sounds romantic. Okay, I think I'm in. Is it dangerous at all? I don't wanna die or anything."

"You're not gonna die." Elsea rolls her eyes. "Remember you asked that the first time we smoked? Look at you now."

Archie smiles to himself.

"When are we gonna do this?" Archie asks, cracking his knuckles. "Because I have some plans this week that I don't want to be completely fucked up for."

"Oh yeah," Elsea says dryly. "I'm sure you do."

"_I do_. I have Quidditch tryouts and I'm captain this year and—"

"Yes, yes. I get it you're amazing, you have a life. I was thinking sometime next week, so we can get this show on the road as soon as possible and I can contact Stan, to make sure I can get more."

"Stan the man." Archie's smirk grows wider. "He's always pulling through for you."

"He's always pulling through for us." Sometimes Elsea likes to give Archie a little more credit in this whole scheme than her really deserves.

"Oh yeah, of course." Archie looks at her proudly. "I'm good with Tuesday of next week."

She can barely believe they're planning out a time to take quaaludes. She's never taken them herself, but she's not sure the planned usage of them will have such as impressive of an effect. "Yeah, we'll take them then."

"So is this an us thing? Or can we tell Anya?" he asks, sinking comfortably into his chair. "Because hiding shit from her is getting exhausting, frankly."

"Is it? I think it's quite easy, actually."

"She's been acting so weird around me this year, though. I think she knows."

Elsea almost laughs. "That's not it."

"Do you know what's up with her, then?" Archie asks, concerned. It's strange to see him that way considering how narcissistic he is most of the time.

"Well," Elsea sighs, preparing herself to lie. "she's just a bit worried about her family, is all. They're all muggles, Arch. It's hard for her."

"Right." Archie nods, taking it in. She can tell that he believes her. "I should've thought of that first. Either way, she's just constantly asking what I'm doing now. Or how I am _whenever_ I'm high. Don't you know that's the worst? You ever tried to answer that question stoned, Els?"

"Don't be stupid," she snaps. "It's not that hard. Maybe you just need to get a grip."

"Maybe _you_ just need to be honest with your best friend so when she asks how I'm feeling on a Tuesday afternoon I can just say: _high as fucking hell._"

"You can still say that, you know. As long as you don't say where you got that high from."

"But what if she asks?"

"She won't. She doesn't care that much."

"But what if she _does_."

"Well _shit,_ Archie." Elsea is ready to slap him hard in the face. "_Lie_."

"But I'm a bad liar."

"Oh, shut up." Elsea places a comforting hand on his knee. "You're a terrific liar. A brilliant, beautiful liar. Almost as good as me."

Archie smirks. "Are you trying to lie to me right now?"

"No! No! Of course not," Elsea insists. "Why else would we be friends if you weren't an expert liar? What else are you good for?

"Well," Archie croons, getting a bit too close for Elsea's liking. "I have been told that I'm quite a dime."

"Really?" Elsea asks, placing her hand on his cheek. She lowers her voice to a husky whisper. "Because I think, that maybe, you hang out with too many good liars, then."

Elsea pushes his face back and bonks him on the head with the heel of her hand.

"Ouch," Archie whines, rubbing his forehead. "My self-esteem."

"You'll recover."

"So we're not telling her," Archie says, one more time. "Are you sure about this?"

"Never been more sure of anything in my life."

"Okay…" Archie trails off. "But I hope you know, she's not as clueless as you think."

Elsea just shrugs.

* * *

Author's note: Let us know what you're thinking!


	3. Police & Thieves

**CHAPTERS THREE:**

POLICE & THIEVES

As far as Elsea is concerned, wrapping Remus Lupin around her finger should be no harder than a first year charms exam.

She has a fool proof plan, and with the help of Anya, she expects nothing but success.

First, she's going to flirt her little behind off. She's going to flirt until the sun comes up. She's going to flirt so hard, with such fiery passion, that Remus Lupin's eyebrows just might be singed off his gorgeous face.

Second, she's going to listen.

"Boys love it when they know you're interested in what they've got to say," Anya told her, just before she left. "Even if they're talking about their athlete's foot, or Quidditch stats, they'll appreciate a good listener. Trust me." And Elsea does trust her. If Remus speaks, she's going to be all ears. If he breathes, all ears. Everything, all ears, all the time.

Third, and possibly Elsea's favorite part of her faultless plan, is the subtle touching. This one is self-explanatory. She's been practicing the art of delicate arm brushes and shoulder grazes for years. In the past, she's been able to time a well-placed cheek kiss so that she can escape with a girlish flip of her hair and a slight swing of her hips. She has a 100% success rate in seduction. And with Anya's help, she reckons she won't lose a single statistic.

As she hurries up the steps from the grounds, her robes billowing behind her in the cool air, she stops at the top, checking her watch for the seventh time on her journey back up from the greenhouses, and pushes the doors open.

"Sorry I'm late!" she gushes, tucking her long plait behind her ear and smiling sweetly.

Remus Lupin is leaning casually against the large oak doors to the Great Hall between two potted plants. His hair is tousled in his usual 'I've been studying and running my hands through my hair repeatedly' look and he has noticeable bangs underneath his eyes.

She ran the last few steps so that she'd get the light pink glow on her cheeks. Elsea comes to a stop in front of him. "Hope you weren't waiting long. I was just helping Professor Sprout prepare for a lesson tomorrow."

Remus just looks at her and says, "Just fifteen minutes."

"Right," Elsea did not expect _this_ kind of reaction, "well, as I said, helping a professor. I'm sorry, it won't happen again!"

He nods his head coolly. "Okay."

"Okay," Elsea echoes automatically. She claps her hands together awkwardly, not really sure where she was going. "Just one second." She buries her hands into her robes and pulls out two tiny bags of seeds and squats in front of the plant on his left. It had been her plan all along, a little cover-up for why she had been at the greenhouses. She didn't want Remus to suspect anything, and she saw the plants looked a bit peckish on her way out. With a wave of her wand, she waters down the seeds in the plant and smiles. "Ah, there. That should help."

Remus looks at her, puzzled. "What are you doing?"

"Professor Sprout asked me to help out a bit with the plants around the castle. They just look so famished, don't they?" she replies as she waters the second plant. Remus nods.

"Uh… sure. Let's get going," Remus pulls his wand from his robes and starts towards the doors to the grounds.

Elsea furrows her brow in confusion. "Don't we usually start at the Astronomy Tower? That's where we find most of the students out of bed at this hour."

"We start on the grounds," Remus says, looking at her a bit cruelly. "Lily announced it at the meeting on the train. Grounds and then work our way up. Suppose you were a little too…"

He doesn't need to finish. She forces a smile and cackles loudly. "Oh! Ha, ha, right. That's right. I remember her saying that. My bad!"

What the hell is wrong with her? She's sounding so… Anya around _Archie_.

"S'alright," Remus nods, "let's get going, then?"

Elsea nods a little too eagerly and steps around him to push open the doors. She skips down the steps, wand at the ready, looking around the grounds for any signs of students.

"See anything?" Elsea asks. Remus shrugs noncommittally. "No?"

"No."

They walk next to each other silently. She wishes for something intelligent, or witty, or cute for her to say. She's supposed to be flirting, god dammit. Not wallowing in awkward silence. Why didn't he ask her more about the plants? Why didn't he comment on her being a good student? A great person?

A rather cool wind sweeps around her cheeks as they make it to the courtyard. Remus walks around her to look behind a pair of bushes. He shrugs again, stuffs his hands into his pockets, and says, "Looks good."

Elsea nods eagerly. "Yeah, good." A thought strikes her and she forces a shiver. "Wow, bloody cold out tonight, isn't it?"

He stares at her. She runs her hands along her arms. "Yeah," he says.

Dammit.

"Should've worn thicker robes," Elsea continues. She's plays it up a bit, chattering her teeth.

Remus gives her a quick side-eyed glance before pulling his robes tighter to his chest. "I guess you should make sure to next time."

Elsea tightens her lips. "I will. Thanks."

It only takes a few moments of silence before he shuffles around and starts heading back out of the courtyard.

"There's someone by the lake," Remus says quickly. His slow strides pick up to a light jog.

Elsea hurries after him, shifting her wand between her hands in an effort to keep warm and, well, busy. Why is he making her so damn nervous? She's Elsea Holmes, for crying out loud! She's had offers from more boys to be their date to Hogsmeade than any other Ravenclaw girl.

"Can you slow down a little?" Elsea pleads, now almost sprinting after Remus. She can't believe how seriously he's taking this patrol thing. Being a prefect is a great responsibility and everything, but Merlin, her heart is going to give out. "Fucking hell."

"What'd you say?" Remus pants, still upsettingly far ahead of her. "Hurry up. I saw a lighter and I bet it's the Slytherins."

Elsea does her best to run a little bit harder. She gets it, now.

"I see you! Don't try running!" Remus shouts. "Stay put!"

Elsea can make out two figures by the lake and sees a tiny flicker of light for herself. Fuck, she thinks, what if it's Archie? It would be just like him to smoke out by the lakes when he knows she's on patrol. But she couldn't very well let her best friend off with a warning with the self-awarded Prefect of the Month as her partner.

"Yeah!" Elsea calls weakly, catching up to where Remus finally stopped running. "Yeah! Don't-"

She stops to put her hands on her knees and regroup.

"-_run_."

She can feel just about everyone's eyes on her before she looks up.

"Lupi, man," a tall, very obviously non-Slytherin boy, speaks. "You brought a chick?"

Elsea feels her face heat up.

"No, Jason I'm not here to-"

The boy, Jason, taps the ash of his joint on the ground and takes a hit mid conversation. Elsea completely understands allure of her product; she sells it, after all. But surely, he didn't have to take a hit _while_ he was getting scolded. That's overkill.

"Rad. Who wants the next hit?" He grins, holding out the joint to them. "But remember, it's puff puff _pass_. Not puff puff _puff puff_ _pass_. Right Fernando?"

Fernando, a Hispanic looking boy, shrugs.

"How high are you?" Remus asks. He almost looks concerned.

Jason doubles over in laughter, taking another quick hit. "I believe it's 'hi, how are you?' actually."

Elsea pulls out her wand at that.

"Alright," she snaps, obviously annoyed, "get the hell back inside or I'll take fifteen points away from, um…" she eyes his robes and sees the bright yellow badger sigil, "Hufflepuff."

"_What?_" Jason's eyes widen in concern. "You're next, blondie. Fernando, give her a hit. She's high strung, man."

Elsea glares at him. She is _not_ high strung. "Twenty points from Hufflepuff, _each_."

"What?" Fernando gasps as Jason stumbles forward.

"The first years don't deserve this. What are you, a Professor?"

Elsea ignores him. "I swear to Merlin, I'll-"

It's just then that Remus stalks forward, snatches the lit joint from Fernando's hands, and throws it into the black lake.

"What the?" Elsea gasps, surprised, as Jason gapes at him.

"Lupi, man, why the fuck did you do that?"

"Get the hell out of here, Jason." Remus rolls his eyes. "We'll have to give you detention if you don't."

Jason doesn't take the hint. "Woah woah woah woah, _wait_. You're a _prefect?_"

Remus sighs, points at his badge.

Jason sinks to the ground dramatically. "Holy shit. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well I thought it was fairly obvious." Remus says, looking at Elsea for support. She nods.

"I feel like I've been betrayed." Jason buries his face in his hands, Fernando sits by his side. "I thought you were cool."

Elsea kneels down to their level, shaking her head. "Why don't you get to bed, huh? You'll feel much better about this if you rest."

Jason stares up at her, his eyes are bloodshot and hooded. "You really think so, blondie?"

"Of course," Elsea taps his nose with her wand, "I'm an expert."

Remus stifles a laugh from behind her.

"Okay," Jason sniffles, "only if you help me up."

"Yes, yes, come here. I got you." She stands up, offering her arms to the Hufflepuffs as they pulled themselves up. "Now let go."

They both drop her at the same time, backing up sheepishly before running off.

"Goodnight!" Fernando calls over his shoulder. "Thank you!"

"You're welcome boys!" Elsea responds, waving wildly. She loves a happy customer. If this were any other situation she might have commented on the quality of weed they were smoking, but, she's on a mission. And Remus Lupin might not like that too much.

Remus looks at her, shaking his head. "They thanked you. You took points off their house and they thanked you."

Elsea smirks. "Yeah well, I'm a prefect for a reason. I just have _a way with people_." She grins and knocks her shoulders against his playfully.

"Well I figured you certainly weren't selected for prefect by your impeccable timeliness," Remus says. She hits him lightly, this first subtle touch of the night.

"You just caught me on a bad day," Elsea insists. "I'm pretty sharp actually."

"Really? Because you weren't too sharp when you were stumbling around on the Hogwarts Express."

"Doesn't count. I was high."

"Oh, okay. Because that helps your case."

"What?" Elsea pries, the small dime bag in her pocket suddenly feels a bit heavier. "Have you never smoked before?"

"I'm not going to dignify that with an answer," Remus replies as they hurry up the steps and back into the castle. "I mean, I am a prefect after all. And a damn good one."

"Yeah, yeah," Remus pulls the door open for her and she pokes at him, "Mr. Perfect."

"Mr. Perfect _Prefect_," Remus corrects.

"You know, you sound to me," Elsea pauses, shoving her hand in her pocket. "like someone who could use a hit or two."

It's a risk, and it's definitely not in the original Anya-Elsea game plan. But she's confident, now. She's made him laugh for crying out loud. She dangles the dime in front of his face. "I have a bowl hidden in the greenhouses. If you wanna, you know..."

Remus goes cold, just eyeing her and the baggie.

Elsea realizes she's made a grave mistake.

-.-

Oh god.

She likes him.

Remus had the idea in his head before from his little conversation with James during their potions lessons, but now, with Elsea dangling a baggie of marijuana in his face with a pleading grin and slightly desperate eyes - he knows for sure.

"Well?" Elsea asks. She doesn't seem as sure of herself as she was before, probably because Remus looks so taken aback.

"Listen," Remus starts out, coughing slightly, but he honestly has no idea where he's going with that. "No."

Elsea drops her bag along with her hopeful expression. "No?"

"Yeah, no thanks."

There's a beat of painfully, painfully awkward silence.

"Well why not?"

Remus glares at her. "That's kind of a stupid question, isn't it?"

Elsea freezes. Remus realizes that was a little harsh, but for Merlin's sake, she just offered him weed on their patrol rounds. Is she mad?

"I-" she stutters, frantically brushing her fringe away from her face and stuffing the baggie back into her robes. "Me neither, I mean... what I'm trying to say is…I found that, yeah… it fell out of that bloke's robes..."

It's like watching a mermaid out of water. Remus can physically feel her struggles in his very soul. Her cheeks are flushed a particularly cute shade of pink and for a minute he feels some sympathy.

"Just don't." Remus decides to put her out of her misery. "It's fine. I don't care, we'll just act like it never happened."

"Okay?" Elsea squeaks. By the tone of her voice he can tell that forgetting this whole thing is going to be harder said than done. "You're not gonna like, tell Filch… are you?"

Remus shakes his head. Elsea sighs in relief. "Thank God," she mutters, "that would be all kinds of hell, am I right?"

He stares at her.

"I mean-"

"Just, let it go, yeah?" Remus wants to drop this entire conversation for now and until the end of eternity. But he finds that if he gives her a break, she starts to panic, ramble. Isn't she supposed to be some sort of heinous bitch, or something? He's heard Blackwater call her Bitchface for crying out loud. Who is this girl in front of him?

He can hear James' obnoxious, all-knowing voice in the back of his head. "_She likes you Moony, she wants to have your cute wolfish babies and suck your cute wolfish dick."_

"How about we split up?" Remus offers. It's the best thing he can come up with, and probably the most beneficial for both of them.

However, Elsea actually looks hurt.

"Split up?" She sounds desperate. "What for?"

"Cover more surface area and whatnot."

Elsea shuffles her feet. "I don't think I know the castle well enough to wander around by myself in the dark."

"You can- I have… you're a _prefect_..." Remus puts his wand down. He feels like he owes something to her for being so uncharacteristically rude. "Fine. Okay, let's just call it a night."

"We literally started an hour ago," Elsea protests, she's starting to sound a bit angry with him, actually. "Are you seriously going to back out of your job as prefect - which I think you happen to take _very_ seriously - because I offered you a shitty dime?"

Remus raises his eyebrows and wills himself to go along with her. "Fine, you're right. Let's go."

With that, he spins on his heels and takes off towards the dungeons. He can hear the soft pitter-patter of Elsea's shoes as she hurries after him. This patrol has taken a horrific turn for the worst; and he wishes he had Sirius' uncanny ability to turn anything awkward into a relaxing evening. He wishes he had his ability to snog fit girls who are interested in him and never think twice about them finding out a secret, or, you know, have to deal with Elsea Holmes and her baggie of marijuana.

He peeks his head down corridors and behind suits of armor, he double checks classrooms and even strolls around the Slytherin hallway a few times to make sure none of those arseholes are out of bed. He'd love to give them detention for something, especially since Sirius reported they were out to get him since the disappearing trousers incident in potions the other day.

Elsea trots behind him, trying to make some slight conversation, but he's only got monosyllables for her. He isn't interested in chatter - in fact, he thinks it would be best if they just didn't speak at all. Elsea is clearly interested in him, and he thinks it's so painfully obvious that he isn't, which makes her infatuation so much worse.

Once again, he can hear Sirius' voice in his head. _"Look Moony, Elsea Holmes is a bloody nine. Nine point eight if you're getting technical. She's a score for you, mate. Why are you acting so bloody thick, yeah? Shag her. Shag the hell out of her."_

Nope. No. He's better than that.

Elsea finally catches up to him. "I might be a bad listener but I'm pretty sure Lily said we were supposed to walk through the corridors during patrol, not run." She's slightly out of breath when she talks, Remus almost feels guilty for it.

"I'm not running," Remus says coolly. "I'm speed walking."

"Speed walking!" Elsea laughs. "I hope that was a joke because I've literally haven't sprinted this hard through the dungeons since I was a first year and I actually cared about showing up to lessons on time."

Remus isn't sure what to say to that. "Cool."

Elsea scowls. "You know, maybe you're right. We should just call it a night."

"No, no." Remus insists. "We're almost done. And, as you said yourself, I take this job _very_ seriously."

She glares at him, but doesn't say anything. They finish the dungeons in silence and Remus can practically feel her brain churning, thinking about how much of a prat he's being. But he doesn't care, not really. This is easily the most awkward patrol he's ever been on, and he's been on a hell of a lot of patrols.

They make their way up the castle with even more minimal speaking. Elsea catches a couple of first years Gryffindors trying to sneak out to the kitchens and gives them detention with such bitterness that one of them starts crying on the spot. He reckons it might just be because they're part of his house.

"You didn't have to make them cry, you know," he says as they turn up the stairs to the seventh floor corridor.

"They were out of bed," Elsea retorts, "they should learn."

"Yeah, because you've never been out of bed after curfew."

"Oh my god. You're so-" Elsea starts, but then stops short. "Nevermind."

Remus is intrigued, looking at her intently as he asks, "What am I 'so?'"

"You're so…" Elsea stares at him, crossing her arms over her chest. She's analyzing him, eyes looking him up and down when she says. "You're such a _dick_."

"I'm not." Remus reacts on an impulse, half laughing. "I'm _not_ a dick."

"Yes you are!" Elsea snaps her fingers and points at him eagerly. "You walk way too bloody fast and use way too many single syllable words to be anything else. You are a huge, pulsating, dick, Remus."

Elsea looks happy with herself as Remus shakes his head vigorously. "None of those reasons constitute to me being a dick. At all."

"Oh please," Elsea says, "I know a dick when I see one."

"I bet you do."

Elsea's entire expression drops, Remus immediately regrets everything he's said in the past two hours.

"Did you just call me a slag?"

"Fuck," Remus swears, looking away and shaking his head. "Fucking _no_, I did not."

Elsea looks slightly pleased she's gotten this reaction out of him.

"I mean," he clears his throat, how the tables have turned, "you hang around with that Blackwater bloke, now that's what I would call a dick. That's what I meant."

Elsea holds firm. "While I cannot disagree with that, I'm pretty sure you were calling me a slag. And I don't like being called a slag, Remus. In fact, calling a girl a slag who has been ever so patient with you this shitty night happens to constitute to _you_ being a _dick_. Funny how that works? Isn't it?"

They stare at each other for a few seconds, Remus looking slightly horrified and Elsea looking much more than slightly peeved. He can practically feel the tension between them in the dark, empty corridor. He wants to blink his eyes and have the entire night erased, start from scratch. Then he'd not have played her so hot and cold, might not have given her a little only for her to offer him to smoke._ Bloody hell, Lupin,_ he thinks, _this is fucking shit_.

"Very funny." He scratches the back of his head. "We might as well finish our rounds."

Elsea scowls at him. "Suppose we should."

-.-

By the time Elsea gets back to the Ravenclaw common room, she's in an even worse mood than before. It doesn't help that Anya is eagerly waiting up for her either, ready for all the juicy details that never occurred.

"Elsea," Anya sing-songs, cross legged on the couch. She looks way too chipper for two in the morning. "How was it?"

"It was…" Elsea sits next to her, trying to come up with a way to sum up the night without comparing it something offensive. "Well, he called me a slag."

Anya looks shocked, frowning. Her dark hair is pulled up in a top bun, and there are a few pieces framing her face. She's got her mouth guard sitting in its case, open, on the arm of the chair. Elsea eyes it warily, but then turns back to her friend. "What exactly did he say? I'll kick his arse!"

"He said," Elsea starts angrily, and then stops. "Well, I called him a dick and then-"

Anya narrows her eyes. "Elsea!"

"A huge pulsating dick, actually."

"Elsea, _NO_."

The fire behind them crackles and Anya grabs the poker at Elsea's feet and plunges it into the wood. The fire slowly roars back to life.

"He deserved it! I swear, you should've seen how he was acting. It was… it was _weird_."

"Weird how?" Anya tugs on her pyjamas; a mint green matching top and bottom that Elsea likes to tease her about. It looks a bit like a muggle man's work suit.

"He just… like, well… Okay maybe it's my fault. I think I made him uncomfortable." She pulls her hair from the plait, running her fingers through her roots and leaning back against the sofa. "Yeah, I definitely made him uncomfortable."

"Uncomfortable how?"

"I may have dangled a bag of weed in his face? Like right under his nose?"

"Elsea!" Anya shrieks, then quickly clapping her hand over her mouth. "I thought you fancied him?"

"Don't yell, for fucks sake you're gonna wake the entire castle up."

"Sorry," Anya apologizes quickly. "But seriously, what the hell, Elsea? That wasn't the plan at all. You were supposed to just be irresistibly adorable. When are you going to understand that smoking marijuana is not cute?"

"Did I say I think it's cute?" Elsea snaps. "First off, if anything, smoking is fit as shit. Second of all, the moment felt right."

"Did it?" Anya asks warily. "What exactly was this moment? Did he profess his undying love for cannabis? Was he wearing one of those bloody awful shirts with a pot leaf on it? No," Anya snaps her fingers, "he was _already _high?"

Ignoring Anya, Elsea smiles fondly, remembering the 2.5 seconds that the night was actually not a complete failure. "Okay. No, he wasn't doing that. But we just busted these two Hufflepuffs for smoking a joint out by the lake-"

"-this already sounds incredibly stupid-"

"-_Shut up_, Anya. And we were walking back into the castle talking about when we met on the train. How I was stoned, and all, you know. I told you this story like six times. Anyway, we were really getting along, taking the piss out of how high I was that day… I thought he might be interested. Thought he might fancy me a bit."

Anya nods understandingly. "So I'm guessing he wasn't, right?"

"No. But that's not even it," Elsea frowns, confused, "I don't get it. He wasn't just not-interested, he literally turned cold. It was like he was a different person."

"Different person how?"

"Well, he called me a slag. Then he called Archie a dick, which is fine, because he is one."

Anya stares at her warningly.

"Oh come on. You know he is. But still, he also proposed we _split up_. That's never once happened to me on patrol. Not even when I had that one night with that awful Slytherin. And he tried to hex me like six times. The Slytherin. Not Remus."

"That sounds serious." Anya opens her arms for a hug, "It's okay, and there are other mermen in the sea. Maybe you can date his friend."

Elsea sighs but allows Anya to hug her. "Yeah, which one? Sirius Black? I'd rather die."

"Maybe Pettigrew? Never heard him talk but he looks alright. Cute face."

"Yuck, no. I think Remus is probably the last Gryffindor I'm gonna try anything with. They're way too self-righteous."

"Yes, completely. Gryffindors are such," she lowers her voice and leans in close, despite the fact that no one is around, "_such cocks_."

"Oh they are _such cocks_."

Anya and Elsea giggle as they pull apart. "James Potter was a damn good kisser though," Elsea says, "knew just what to do with his hands."

"Oh God!" Anya gushes, burying her head in her hands. "Don't remind me of that night."

"You snogged the Head Boy _that night_," Elsea folds her arms over her chest proudly, "your shining moment. I'll never not remind you. Fifth year Anya Darzi, snogging Seventh Year Hufflepuff Jonathan Fairbanks."

"No," Anya waggles her finger in Elsea's face, "no, because he was a ruddy awful kisser and didn't have any bloody idea what to do with his hands!"

"Should have snogged James." Elsea shrugs playfully. "Still can, probably. Oh, double date!"

"He's in love with Lily Evans, you dolt." Anya flicks Elsea in the forearm. "Do you pay attention to anything I say?"

"You're such a gossip An," Elsea yawns loudly, "how could I possibly keep up?"

"Not that difficult, maybe you should smoke a little less." Anya gets up from the couch before Elsea can even argue. "Okay. I'm going to collapse on the ground if I don't get to bed right now."

"Weak." Elsea says, but she follows her. "Tomorrow is Saturday, who even cares?"

"_I _do." Anya replies nastily. "I have to wake up early to help Archie train for his Quidditch match. He asked me."

"And you said yes?" Elsea asks. "He's captain, Anya. He has a team. He only wants you there so he looks cool."

She's constantly wary of Archie and Anya's budding friendship. It always seems like it's about to take off, like maybe they'll be more than a few awkward conversations and series of longing gazes. (Though, that's only from Anya's side). Elsea doesn't really like the idea of them alone, without her, especially since Archie is bound to take advantage of Anya's sweet disposition. And Elsea would have to clean up the mess he made.

"B.S. Elsea," Anya insists, "I'm the last person he'd call on to make him look cool."

"True. So he wants your Quidditch expertise?"

"_No_. Just maybe, hopefully," Anya starts dreamily, "he wants my _company_."

Elsea decides to stop there, being they're at their dormitory and she feels like maybe she should let someone go to bed with happy thoughts tonight. Inside are several seventh year Ravenclaws, deep in sleep, who are willing and ready to hex the hell out of anyone who might disturb their slumber. While Elsea might always have a counter-curse at the ready, she's in no mood to deal with Anya's whining about curses and boys and _Archie._

"Yeah, okay," she says stiffly. She pushes the door open and together they tip-toe inside. Elsea collapses on her bed without bothering to change.

* * *

Author's Note: Your reviews are much appreciated! Keep 'em coming!


	4. The Joker

**CHAPTER FOUR**

THE JOKER

It's a rare occurrence at the typically dreary, almost always rainy, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that a sunny and warm Saturday afternoon happens near the beginning of term. Long before the madness of exams set in and lesson loads are the lightest, lovely weather is a gift from Merlin.

Along the lake, dozens of students lounge in the sand, several swim near the shore, and a couple of naive first years are teasing the Giant Squid. Fifth year girls lie in the grass in their muggle shorts and t-shirts, hoping to catch the last bits of sun before the Scottish rain returns again, and a pack of fourth year boys linger a few meters away, ogling the girls and whispering huskily between themselves.

Remus sits with his back against an old oak tree, a muggle philosophy book resting on his knees and his hair pushed back in several directions. He looks as exhausted as he feels, with heavy bags underneath his red, bloodshot eyes. Sirius had made a minimum of six comments on the fact that Remus hadn't even smoked anything and yet he looks like he just finished hot boxing the Quidditch supplies shed with Jason and his friends. Even James had joined in on the fun, making a few puns about werewolfism and stoners. Remus, who is infinitely tired of wizarding weed and all that bloody High Roller business, ignores them with the finesse of a proud Hippogriff. He won't give them the goddamn time of day.

Luckily for him, James and Sirius have given up, and are instead discussing where in the world Peter might be, who has been strangely missing for the last hour and a half.

"Maybe he's finally snogging Alice Hackney," Sirius muses, idly scratching the short beard growing along his obnoxiously defined jawline. He's wearing a cap that shields his eyes from the sun, and is lounging on his back in the long, green grass. Remus, who is slightly allergic to grass, feels his skin itch just thinking about it.

"Alice is seeing Frank Longbottom," James replies. "They're literally always snogging in the corridors. Haven't you ever noticed?"

Sirius shrugs. "Maybe he's snogging MacDonald then?"

"Padfoot," James snickers, "Mary MacDonald would rather snog a dementor than Peter. Lily told me."

"And what else does Lily tell you, Prongs?" Sirius reaches over and flicks James on the stomach. James, who's Potions textbook lies forgotten beside him, kicks at his best friend with his bare foot. Upon exiting the castle, James had screeched in joy at how wonderful the weather was, attempted to decree, as Head Boy, that all shoes and trousers were illegal, and disposed of his immediately. He's now sitting in just his boxers and a Quidditch t-shirt, which has a glowing golden snitch proudly in the middle. "I bet she says stuff like, _I love you James Potter_and_Will you come into my secret garden? Please, tend to my garden, James._Or no?"

"Yeah," James says before tossing a pile of grass at Sirius. "That's exactly what she says. Word for word. Verbatim, actually. Have you been spying on us? I'm impressed."

Sirius waggles his brows. "Actually, she just said it to me last night."

"_Why_ you little-" James cries and lurches forward, tackling Sirius to the ground.

Remus glances up at them for a mere second before shrugging and going back to his book. Though, it hasn't been keeping much of his attention. His mind has been on the approaching full moon that night, looming above him like a dark, ominous cloud.

"I'll beat the shit out of you, Padfoot!"

"Please do, James! I long for your touch!" Sirius shouts, muffled, as James basically humps him into the ground. This, unlike the weather, is not a rare occurrence. Remus has seen the two of them tackle each other, give one another strange love bites on their necks, and even snuggle on a sofa since their first year. Their intimacy is shocking to many, but not him. "Oh yeah! Keep going!"

James rolls off then, because even James and Sirius have a line. He sits up, pushing his wild, dark hair off his forehead and sighs. "Seriously, though, where the hell is Wormtail?"

"I dunno," Sirius shrugs, joining him in a sitting position, "how about you, Moony, Pete tell you where he was going this morning?"

"Yeah, told me he'd be shagging Snape in the Chamber of Secrets from twelve to three," Remus chimes in, dully, as he flips the page of his book.

Sirius and James snicker.

"Proper length of time," Sirius mutters. "I hope Peter tops, at least."

"No. No way. Peter? He's a bottom," James adds.

Remus rolls his eyes at both of them. "Power bottom, if anything give him that."

"Yeah, give him that Jamey-poo," Sirius adds. "Think about it, though. Snivellus is a weakling, look at those bones. He'd shatter if he slipped down the stairs, mind you, I've tried that before. But Peter? He generates a lot of power. He may be small, but he's mighty. The little git broke my hand last year, remember?"

James scratches his chin, thinking. "I believe you're right, Padfoot. Wormtail would proper rawdog him."

"Proper… rawdog?" Sirius breaks into a hysteric fit as James throws another pile of grass at him. Remus cracks a grin and shakes his head.

"James, man." Remus closes his book. "What the hell is a _rawdog_?"

"Like, to fuck raw, you know?" James explains. He looks at Sirius and Remus in shock, as if they should've had a clue what 'rawdog' was supposed to mean. "Don't tell me you haven't heard that before."

"I haven't," Remus says, "and I'd rather not hear it again, frankly. Especially in reference to _Peter_." He shivers to add effect. Sirius follows suit.

James laughs, rolling on to his back closer to Remus' knee. "Would you prefer the term rawdog in reference to _Elsea Holmes_?"

"No." Remus answers too quickly. Sirius looks at him, intrigued.

"Elsea Holmes?" he muses, smirking. Remus feels an uncomfortable stirring in the pit of his stomach. "That Ravenclaw with the cute bum? Friends with that douche Blackwater? And that cute Indian bird?"

"Oh yeah!" James nods. "She's fit."

"Great arse." Sirius agrees.

"You already said that," James says. "Great arse and cute bum are redundant."

"No, I mean the Indian girl," Sirius points out. "She's got a smashing behind too. I'd like to see her back that arse up against my-"

Remus, who is paralyzingly uncomfortable, interrupts, "Uh yeah, that Elsea Holmes."

Sirius grins. "Heard she's a good snog."

"Yeah, from me!" James and Sirius exchange high fives. "She was. Told Remus that. She wants him, by the way. Wants his cock."

"Do you have to be so vulgar all the time?" Remus says, he's trying to not come off as embarrassed as he actually is. But it's hard, considering the fact that he's blushing furiously.

"Excuse me," Sirius prompts, leaning forward. "You were the one who called Peter a power bottom before, so you have no right to comment on our vulgarity, Moony. You _don't_ have the right."

"Aw, no, he's just a little flustered." James pinches Remus' cheek. Remus just wants to die. "I'm guessing patrol didn't go well, did it? How hard did she reject you?"

"Better question," Sirius slides in, smirking up at Remus, "how hard did she leave you? Which shade of blue were your balls?"

"They weren't blue you bleeding _twats_," Remus snaps. "I don't even want her. At all. She's bloody mad, is what she is. Crazy trumps fit, any time."

"Bullshit," says James.

"I'll take her off your hands," Sirius offers, stretching his arms into the air. A group of third year Ravenclaws stop near the water to stare up at him and giggle. "I'll take one for the team."

"Piss off." Remus says, "You don't want her. Trust me."

"Well shit man," James exclaims. "What'd she do that was so bad? Declare all werewolves an abomination? As far as I'm concerned a girl like Elsea Holmes could do no wrong."

"She just talks about nothing a lot," Remus explains, "and it always seems like she's putting on some sort of show. It's very transparent."

Sirius looks neary insulted. "So? She wants you, of course she's gonna try to impress you."

"Yeah, but," Remus is beginning to feel like he has no shot at winning this. His argument feels completely ridiculous the moment it escapes his mouth. "She literally threw a bag of weed in my face after we busted Justin and his crew at the lake."

"Dude, she was gonna smoke you out?" Sirius asks, eyes wide. "That's the _dream_, man. What's your problem?"

Sirius looks ready to slap Remus right in the face.

"My problem is," Remus backtracks, "is that I'm a fucking werewolf, man. I can't have Elsea Holmes on my tail."

James laughs at Remus' use of the word 'tail' before he continues.

"She's smart. Fit, yes. Confident, intimidatingly so. She'll figure me out in two point six seconds and I want nothing to do with it."

"I don't know," Sirius shrugs, "Whatshername was pretty damn smart and she never figured it out."

"That's because Moony bailed before things got too serious," James points out.

"We done here?" Remus asks. "I think we're done here."

"I don't." James sits up and grabs at his ankles, smirking. "After Blondie offered you the Mary Jane, what did you do?"

Sirius crosses his arms over his chest and looks like he's struggling to hide a wild grin.

Remus' stomach drops again and he sighs, falling back against the tree. "I told her I didn't want to smoke with her."

"And how did you do that, Moony?"

"I-" he stutters, "I, um…"

"You bitched her the hell out, didn't you?" James laughs. "Oh, Moony. Just like, snog the girl. Give her a bone."

"She's not a dog, Prongs." Remus rolls his eyes.

"She certainly isn't," Sirius yawns, stretching his arms again, "and I know my canines."

They ignore him.

"I might have," Remus scratches the back of his head sheepishly, "done more than just, you know, bitched her out."

"What did you do?"

"I, uh…" he trails off, looking around. This has been eating him alive since the moment it escaped his mouth. "I might have implied, indirectly, that she's a bit of a… well… a slag."

Sirius bursts out laughing. James shakes his head. "Moony, _no_."

"Yeah I know," Remus buries his head in his hands, "I wanted to rebuff her advances not insult her very being."

Sirius is still laughing.

"I mean it, Moony," James looks at him seriously for a moment, "you're hurting the girl's feelings, just like, be nice to her. It's not going to kill you. And Merlin, apologize, for the slag comment."

"I know, and it might not kill me, but it sure as hell could kill her."

"Oh don't be so dramatic!" Sirius claps his hand on Remus' knee. "It's simple, flirt, snog, do some hand stuff, mouth stuff, shag like bunnies, and then break it off. The Padfoot Method is foolproof."

"That's the progression to any hook up, Sirius. Not some fancy, personalized method for seducing the ladies."

Sirius smirks. "As far as you know."

"Listen, it's not that hard." James ignores Sirius. "Be _nice_. I'm not saying you should flirt with her or snog her or anything, but fuck, be nice. If she talks to you, answer. Answer nicely. _Nicely_. Do it. If Lily's taught me anything, it's that the ladies like it when you're nice. So be nice."

"Shocking."

"You're so wise in the ways of women, Prongs." Sirius lifts his hands and squeezes the air. "You'll get to touch her knockers soon enough."

James winks at him.

"But I'm not trying to make her fancy me," Remus argues, frustrated. "I'm trying to get her to get the hell away."

"That's not gonna happen if you're patrolling together. So deal with it," James barks, then he shakes his head in disbelief. "I can't believe this. Elsea Holmes is all over you and we have to tell you to _deal with it_. You're the weirdest bloke I know, Moony."

Like clockwork, Peter comes to a skidding halt next to their tree. He's sweating, with bright red cheeks and pit-stains in his t-shirt that hangs, oversized on his skinny frame.

"Good afternoon Wormtail," James chirps, tipping his chin up to him. "Where have you been all my life?"

"Trying to get this!" Peter pulls a small baggie from the pocket of his jeans. "Took me forever to find Maddox, but I got it."

They stare at the small baggie of wizard weed between Peter's fingers. The iconic tiny gold crown, the symbol of the High Roller, glitters in the sunlight.

"Pete," Sirius asks, furrowing his brow, "how much you pay for that?"

"Just five galleons," Peter says proudly.

Remus' jaw drops. "Peter that's…. inflated, man." James erupts into laughter.

"Nah, it's fucking amped up, man. It's not the regular shit. Maddox said it's new, just on the market."

"You're a god damn idiot," James manages to choke out. Peter just frowns.

"I am not an idiot, Maddox gave me a special offer. Something _new_."

"He offers that every time," James rolls his eyes, "it's a classic Maddox gimmick. But I suppose it's my fault you got caught in it. Should've warned you."

"Yeah," Peter says, now exasperated, "you right should have."

"I'll reimburse you, how about that? I think I owe you that much."

"It's alright," Sirius pushes himself off the grass and swoops his arm around Peter's shoulders. "I'm proud of you, my man. Let's celebrate your first successful purchase." Sirius looks around at the other boys. "No use trying to rope you two in, is there?"

James shrugs. "Lily might be looking for me, can't risk getting caught with a mountain of pumpkin pasties again. She might suspect."

Remus, whose mind has finally gotten off the subject of the full moon, but onto an even more painful one of Elsea Holmes, looks between his friends.

"Fuck it," he declares, "let's go get high."

"Well shit, if Moony's in, I'm in." James scoops up his book and jumps to his feet. He holds out a hand for Remus and together the four of them sneak off to the edges of the forest.

-.-

"Hey, Arch?" Elsea asks as they walk down the corridor. "I have a question."

Archie just looks at her, still too breathless from quidditch practice to be his usually chatty self. Apparently, Anya had given him a run for his money when she charmed the bludger bat for "an equal playing field." Archie had a few patches of dirt on his cheeks and a tiny scrape above his brow to prove it.

"Do you think I'm a slag?"

They're heading to the owlery. It's around ten in the morning, too early for Elsea but no one else seems to ever understand that.

Laughing, Archie shakes his head. "Not really."

"You don't think?"

"Hm, you did have that slaggy phase at the end of year five," he shrugs, "remember what you did to that Hufflepuff? On Valentines day?"

"Yeah, okay, true," she says calmly. She's not really ashamed of her slaggy phase; she was fifteen, after all. Who isn't a little slaggy at fifteen? "But like, this year. Have I been slaggy _this_ year?"

Archie looks at the ceiling pensively before answering.

"Well I don't know what you did - or who you did - this summer. But you've been here for maybe, what, two weeks? I haven't even gotten the chance to be slaggy yet."

Archie pauses.

"Wait, it's been _two weeks_!" he cries. "Two weeks and the slaggiest thing I've done is wank a couple out in the shower."

"Archie, _gross_."

"You're damn right about 'gross.' I need to get laid. I need to get laid _now_. My calluses are growing calluses."

Elsea ignores the last bit and opens the heavy, double doors to the owlery.

She should've known better than to ask Archie a question about something other than enchanted pot or himself. He doesn't even know about her miniscule crush on Remus Lupin, or the night patrol, or the slag comment. In fact, she's sure that if he _did_ know about the slag comment, someone might get seriously injured.

"Quaaludes in two days, right?" Elsea asks, although she already knows the answer.

"Shit yeah." Archie beams at her. "I'm pumped."

Elsea is about to send Stan a letter asking for more ludes, and, specifically, ask him what sort of symptoms would make them even better. It would take a bit of experimenting to get it just right, so she reckoned she'd need quite a few bottles before she had a product ready for the market.

The owlery is a large, open room. The tall windows illuminate the walls, bringing light into the cages of the hundreds of owls that pass through night and day. The walls are lined with aged, mismatched stone. It's rustic looking, homie even. However, despite it's appearance, it was only really a nice place to be if you a) actually liked owls or b) had lost the ability to smell.

The stench of the place always weirdly reminded Elsea of home. Probably because owl food always stunk up Stan's bedroom. Elsea never understood why he insisted on keeping it all in there, perhaps there were some hallucinogenic properties of Owl Chow she was unaware of. She'd have to look into that, another time.

Archie lets out a loud whistle. "Elsea's owl?" he calls. "What's your owl's name again?"

"Eugene," Elsea says, then quickly adds, "don't ask."

Archie gives her a strange look anyway. "Okay?"

She shrugs and spots Eugene off to the side of the wall. She carefully avoids the owl poo, tiptoeing around in her new brown leather ankle boots, which she would rather die than ruin. Archie trudges in after her, not caring if he ruined his Quidditch trainers. They were already covered in mud and grass, after all.

"What did you do last night?" Elsea asks randomly, as she reaches Eugene and pulls a treat from her pocket. Eugene, a medium sized tawny owl, chirps enthusiastically and takes the treat from her hand. She begins to stroke his head softly as Archie dives into an in-depth explanation of his Friday evening.

"Well," he clears his throat, "you know, that's something I wanted to talk to you about."

Elsea shoots him a nervous look. "Whenever you have to "talk to me about something" it usually involves-"

"-yeah...uh...Maddox's sales are down."

She narrows her eyes. "_How far down_?"

"The only person Maddox has sold to all week is Pettigrew, and he managed to overcharge him because, you know, Pettigrew is an idiot, and yeah."

"What about the others?" Elsea has stopped petting Eugene and is facing Archie with an angry, nearly murderous look on her face. She can't possibly imagine her product going down the drain in a matter of weeks. The start of term was wild for business, and people were practically staking out her door for some of her enchanted marijuana, which was why she'd raised prices. She'd done the math; she should still be fine. People should still be wanting her product.

Maddox is supposed to be her rock, if he starts falling out of line, she doesn't know what the others might be doing.

"They're under charging."

"They're doing _what_?" Elsea's seeing red. She steps forward and presses her hands against Archie's chest, shoving him backward. There's a look of sheer panic on his face before he stumbles backward, tripping on a stack of hay, and falls onto his bum.

"What the _fuck_, Els?" Archie roars, face a bright shade of pink underneath all that dirt and sweat. Elsea realizes she might have targeted her anger at the wrong person, but due to her crippling pride, pretends not to have noticed. She spins around and stalks towards the other side of the owlery, then paces back and forth.

"If those arseholes think they can lower _my_ prices - well, they've got another thing coming."

Archie is rubbing his bum. "You pushed me."

"I'm gonna rip out Xavier's jugular with my teeth! I bet he's the one behind all of this. You could see it in his eyes that he's got no loyalty."

"Elsea, I have owl shit in my hair."

"Will you shut up?" Elsea snaps. "Listen. Sorry I pushed you, but we have bigger issues than your hair right now. I'm _losing_ money."

Archie scrambles to his feet, staring at Elsea angrily for her lack of sympathy. "Since when were you so frugal? So what, you won't get as many pumpkin pasties at Hogsmeade next trip."

Elsea shoots him a warning glare, but Archie remains unphased. She can imagine why; he already laid in an actual bed of animal feces today.

"We need to fix this," Elsea says, attempting to calm herself. "We need to control our dealers."

"Or you could just, you know, put the prices back to normal."

"Uh, _no_," Elsea insists. She will die before she lowers those prices. This has to work. She has an algorithm and everything. "That's not an option. In fact, the next time you insult me by suggesting that stupid, stupid idea, I'm gonna remove you from this operation entirely. I will make sure you do not touch one gram of _my product_ while you are on this planet. Understand?"

Archie stares at her in disbelief.

"I'm leaving," he sighs, his entire chest heaving up and down, "when you're done acting like a bloody psychopath we can work this out like regular people."

Elsea folds her arms and says nothing.

"Maybe you can do the ludes with Anya. I'm sure she'd be keen as hell."

Elsea unfolds her arms.

"Wait," she protests. Archie turns on his heel, staring at her expectantly. "I'm sorry I pushed you in shit. But you do realize that this is ruining everything, don't you? I need this money. I need it for more important things than extra pumpkin pasties, believe it or not."

"What could you possibly need it for?" Archie asks. He's softening, but Elsea can see he's still skeptical.

"Well," she breathes, it's better if he knows than doesn't, at this point. Archie is properly clued in about everything else in her life anyway - and it's the only secret she's never told anyone before. And it's not really healthy to live like that, so she's heard. Archie _could_ know. It wouldn't be the _worst_ thing. "I'm sort of paying half of Stan's taxes."

"You're…." Archie trails off, his brow furrowed, "wait, what?"

Of course she doesn't fully expect him to _understand_. Does he even know what taxes are? Do wizards do that?

"Stan is a bum, Arch. He can barely afford to keep heat on in the house during the winter. Paisley has a job but it barely helps. She sells beaded necklaces on the side, but, you know, people can make those themselves. They _need_ me."

Archie nods, but Elsea isn't sure if he gets it anymore than before. How could he? He is practically the face of teenage boy entitlement. He's probably never had to worry about anything in a financial sense in his life. Elsea wonders if he's actually ever worried about anything, ever.

"Can't Stan get a job?" Archie asks timidly. "Doesn't he deal some himself?"

"It doesn't cover the cost of living," Elsea explains. "It's just the way it is, Archie. He doesn't even know I pay for him, that's how secretive this whole thing is. The only people who know are me, Paisley, and now you, I guess."

Archie looks surprised.

"So don't tell anyone," Elsea tells him, before he can say anything else, "not even Maddox."

"Right, I wouldn't." Archie coughs, running a hand through his poop-ladden hair. "Uh, yeah, so…listen, I'm on your side here, and-"

Elsea stares at him before shaking her head and walking back to Eugene while he trails off. She ties the little letter and small coin purse to his leg, gives him a proper pat, before he soars off out the window.

"Let's go have a snack? Sneak into the kitchens?" Archie offers. "Bloody stinks in here."

She stares at him. He's literally covered in shit, actual shit and mud, grass, and there's a tiny twig in his hair.

"Get my dealers together, then you can have a shower, yeah?"

Archie nods as they begin to head out of the Owlery. They're feet away, but a specifically terrible stench follows them.

"Actually," Elsea says, looking sympathetically at Archie, "take a shower. You have until five to get the dealers in the greenhouse with me."

She pats his arm. "I'll bring the snacks."

-.-

"I've brought you all here today," Elsea clamps her hands behind her back and strolls back and forth in front of the pack of Ravenclaws in front of her, "to discuss your insubordination."

"Insubordination?" Hadley rolls her eyes. "That's-"

"Don't speak." Elsea stops in front of her and quirks an eyebrow. She's practiced that in the mirror a few hundred times.

It took Archie only an hour to get rag tag pack of dealers together in the astronomy tower. During that time, Elsea ran over what she wanted to say in her head fifteen minutes, practiced her speech for a cleanly showered Archie, and even had time to run down to the greenhouses for a fresh batch.

"Listen, I'm going to cut the decorum because honestly, I'm pretty damn… _hmm_, what's the word, Arch?"

"This is an _abomination_!" Archie booms. "You're bloody furious, that's what you are."

"Indeed I am. Lowering prices? What do you think this is? A fucking free for all? I'm trying to run a business, not a fucking fish market. If I wanted to have bartering as a part of my system I would've hired four people who are _actually_ likable and capable of making a decent deal."

Maddox is the only one who looks offended. The rest, as they shouldn't, continue to stare at her defiantly.

Archie steps in.

"We understand that people might be a little less than willing to pay for wizard weed now that it's no longer dirt cheap, but still. You're technically salesmen. You have to close deals, deals that carry a significant value. That or we'll have to cut back on profit. For all of us."

"Why do you even make profit, Blackwater?" Xavier cuts in, he puts his hand on a pumpkin pasty. "It's not like you're doing anything of 'significant value.'"

Archie opens his mouth, probably to tell him off, but Elsea decides it's time to step in.

"Xavier," Elsea says coolly, "put that pasty down."

"What?" Xavier asks, smiling. Elsea hates him; he has one of the stupidest faces she's ever seen.

"Do you think I'm fucking you?" Elsea steps closer to him, getting in his face. "Because I'm not fucking you, Xavier. Pumpkin Pasties are for closers."

She grabs the snack out of his hand and chucks it across the room. Web flinches.

"You too, Web," Elsea warns. Web drops the half eaten pasty on the ground without an argument. "Now, Archie, _please_ continue."

"Right, uh," Archie gathers himself, grinning at her, "the minimum price for a gram of anything with the High Roller label is three galleons. Three. Not two, not one and a half, not two in a half. Three galleons. Unless you're Maddox and you can trick someone into buying for five-"

The room erupts into snickers.

"_-Nothing_ changes." Archie claps his hands together. "Are we all understood?"

"Understood," Maddox says, cheerily eating a pumpkin pasty.

The other three remain stubborn, glaring at Elsea and Archie like it's a matter of good versus evil.

"I'm just trying to run a business." Elsea says, her voice even and professional. She needs to sound her best to butter them up. "I don't know how many times I have to say it, but that is literally all. I'm trying to make everything better for everyone here. All of us. We sell. We _give_. We bring endless joy and distractions to others. We get to receive a pay for that. Isn't that brilliant? And the more sold, the more pay. It's that simple. You're all smart, you all know that already."

Web softens and Hadley starts twirling her hair distractedly.

"Now, are we all understood?" Elsea asks.

Everyone groans. Some of them nod.

"Good. _Now_ you can help yourselves to some pasties. I expect results, people!"

-.-

As the night sky falls along the horizon, banishing the bright sun and chasing the last of the students into the safe doors of the castle, Remus and his friends start the long trek to the Shrieking Shack. He's particularly anxious tonight; perhaps it's that it's his last, first full moon of his career at Hogwarts. Perhaps it's because of the war raging outside. Or, perhaps it's just another reminder that soon enough he won't have the protection of grounds from actually harming another person with his curse.

"My head hurts," Peter mumbles as they slip out, undetected, from the large oak front doors. "I think that weed was laced with something."

James snorts. "The High Rollers shit isn't supposed to give you a headache, mate. I think you're just weak."

Peter frowns. "I think it's a bad batch."

"I feel great," Sirius declares, throwing his arm around Peter's shoulders and grinning excitedly. "I'd do anything to get into that operation. Can you imagine the money I'd make off you, Wormtail?"

Peter glares and shrugs him off. "Whatever man, Maddox is fucking convincing as hell."

Remus and James share a smirk, but don't say anything. James quickly grabs Wormtail around the waist and throws him over his shoulder, sprinting quietly down the grounds. They've learned to be quiet now, since Dumbledore subtly hinted to them that some students might start suspecting something is up if there are four loud-mouthed boys shouting and galloping down the grounds once a month during the full moon.

Sirius and Remus fall back. The biting feeling in Remus' stomach deepens. He shoves his hands into his robes and looks around, nervously.

"Is it starting already?" Sirius asks. He has his hands in his pockets, Remus knows he's holding his wand.

Remus just nods, afraid of triggering something. There's a long stretch of silence between them, the only sounds coming from the chirping of birds in the forbidden forest. It's like any other walk to the shack; with the darkness looming ahead of him. The other lads might have a bit of fun on these nights, with their playing and running and general shenanigans. But Remus never remembers any of it, just experiences unmatchable and excruciating pain in the mornings when he wakes, naked and a mess in the Shrieking Shack.

"You know it's gonna be fine," Sirius says eventually, reading his mind like he often does.

Remus shakes his head. "No, it's not."

"It is. There are countless werewolves living amongst us everyday. How often do you hear about an attack?"

"The Ministry covers those up. Just how Dumbledore does with all the incidents here."

Sirius sighs, bumping shoulders with Remus. "Incidents, what incidents? Like that time you ate a bunny and left his skull for the world to see? Pretty bloody harrowing, Moony."

Remus cracks a slight grin, then frowns. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

His mind flashes to the time he almost killed Snape the year before. It didn't only almost ruin Remus and Snape's lives, but James and Sirius' friendship as well.

"Listen," Sirius speaks softly, so only Remus can hear. "I don't know about any other werewolves, but I know about you. And I know that of all of us, you have the most impressive amount of self control. I'm sure that if I were a werewolf half the student body would be dead and I'd be walking around Knockturn Alley like some sort of criminal. You're going to be okay, Moony. You're going to be more than okay. I promise."

Remus almost wants to tell Sirius that he can't place a promise on something so ambiguous, but he stays quiet instead. Nothing can make him feel better, but allowing everyone to think so helps, somehow. He nods and continues along the path.

Ahead of them, James has tackled Peter onto the ground and is pretending to punch him in the gut. Peter is laughing obnoxiously loud, so Sirius pulls out his wand and casts a silencing charm on the two of them. Remus laughs, watching as James and Peter attempt to scream at Sirius

Sirius stops suddenly and pulls Remus to face him."Seriously, Remus," he says, dark eyes piercing into his own. "You're going to be alright. I'm here. James is here. Pete's here. We wouldn't let anything happen to you, or anyone else. You got that?"

Remus nods again. Sirius sighs and leans forward, knocking their foreheads together.

"It's all of us, yeah, us four until the end of the line."

A familiar sense of relief washes over Remus. He sighs deeply and says, "Yeah."

"Good." Sirius reaches around and smacks Remus' arse so hard he reckons he'll have a bruise in the morning. "That's the spirit, fuckwad!"

Sirius runs forward, jumping off a particularly tall boulder and in the air, shifts gracefully into a large, black dog. Remus, though he's seen it before, watches mesmerized as his three best mates shift into the three animals that ought to save his life, time and time again.

* * *

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